


The Ninth Chime of the Seventh Hour

by QueenOfTheDreamers (QueenOfDreamers)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Borgin and Burkes (Harry Potter), F/M, First War with Voldemort, Possessive Tom Riddle, Protective Nagini (Harry Potter), Sane Tom Riddle, Second War with Voldemort, Tattoos, Time Travel, Young Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23394757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfDreamers/pseuds/QueenOfTheDreamers
Summary: January 1996. Bellatrix Lestrange is among those broken out of Azkaban. But the Bellatrix who emerges from prison is a sprightly nineteen-year-old who fell asleep in 1970 and woke up in a cell ten days before the breakout. How will the resurrected Voldemort handle the presence of this ghost, this witch who has not yet lived all the things that mattered?
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Voldemort, Cygnus Black/Druella Rosier Black, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-post.

"Lucius. You said it was urgent."

"It is, My Lord. Quite urgent." Lucius Malfoy seemed rather anxious as he sat in the chair opposite Voldemort. A frigid rain pattered outside the office window. Lucius dragged his tongue over his bottom lip and said, "She is with Narcissa now, getting cleaned up and dressed and fed."

"Bellatrix," Voldemort clarified, and Lucius nodded.

"She's gone mad, Master."

Voldemort tipped his head. "Fourteen years in Azkaban is likely to do that to someone."

"My Lord, it's… she thinks it's 1970," Lucius said, and Voldemort scowled.

"A pity, for a mind like hers to go."

"The only thing, My Lord, is that she looks… she looks… _young_ ," Lucius pronounced carefully. Voldemort cleared his throat a little, shaking his head, but Lucius continued, "She claims she fell asleep in her bed at the Black family residence in August of 1970, and that she woke up in Azkaban ten days before the breakout. She says she screamed and cried out once she realised she was in prison. Then the Dementors came and broke her out. We explained as much as we could to her. We explained the way you… disappeared. The way she'd gone to prison for so long. We even tried to explain your new… appearance. She was incredibly confused by it all. She kept insisting I was my father. She seemed terrified. But she looks young, younger than I remember her being even when she went off to Azkaban."

"Interesting." Voldemort drummed his clawed fingernails along the edge of his desk. "Bring her to me."

"Yes, My Lord. I think she's just upstairs getting some fresh clothes. I'll bring her down."

Lucius bowed when he stood, and Nagini slithered up to Voldemort. Once Lucius had gone, Nagini hissed in Parseltongue,

" _You have missed her, Master._ "

" _It has been too long. I couldn't miss her anymore,_ " Voldemort insisted back. The snake looked as sceptical as snakes could do, and she slithered over to rest beneath a bookshelf. Voldemort sighed, running his fingernails over his bald head. She would be horrified by him, time travel or not. Thanks to snake venom, his nose was now just a set of slits in his face. He could smell very well, as it happened, but the look was disgusting. Not that he minded; in fact, he quite liked that everyone else was terrified of his new appearance. He hadn't been very handsome before the incident with the infant Harry Potter, anyway. Making so many Horcruxes had warped and melted his features.

But Bellatrix had never cared.

"Enter," he said at the sound of three knocks on his door. His voice shook far more than he would have liked. The door opened, and then Voldemort's jaw dropped.

It was her. _Her,_ Bellatrix, only she looked like she'd just left Hogwarts. Her face was almost childlike in its youth. Her eyes were bright and glittering with life. Her hair was jet black, her curls shining. She was thin and gangly, almost untouched by womanhood. His breath caught. This was not a witch who had spent fourteen years in Azkaban.

"Bellatrix," he said softly, and he watched her blink in shock.

"M-My Lord." She dipped her head and raised just her eyes to study him.

"Horrific, isn't it?" He glanced down at himself, but Bellatrix shook her head as she came into the office.

"No. If what they say is true, and you were gone for so long, then I am only glad you are safe."

He smirked and gestured for her to sit.

"You pretend not to know what happened, but I refuse to believe you've gone mad. There's one way to find out. Let me in your mind. _Legilimens._ "

She gasped as he thrust himself into her head. He searched through her memories, trying to find faint glimmers of what had come to pass between them from 1970 until she married in 1976. Nothing. He searched for memories of her trial, of her imprisonment. Nothing. Everything stopped at the end of the summer after she'd left Hogwarts. She'd been working for Voldemort since her sixth year in school, and over that summer, she'd become his full-time and closely associated soldier. But she remembered nothing past a hot night in August when she'd gone to bed, and then she'd awakened in a cell in Azkaban.

"So it is as you say," Voldemort whispered, "and you have come decades into the future through your sleep. How can this be?"

"I have no idea, My Lord," Bellatrix admitted. "When I saw Lucius, I didn't recognise him. Neither him nor Cissy. Then they told me about you. I figured it out quickly; I knew I'd come through time. But I had no Time Turner, nor any spell or potion or device… I don't know how it happened. I don't know… oh. Hello."

Nagini had slithered up to Bellatrix and was curling up her chair. The snake held her face out toward Bellatrix, hovering and studying.

" _Leave her be,_ " Voldemort hissed in Parseltongue, but Bellatrix dragged a knuckle almost affectionately over the top of Nagini's head and murmured,

"Pretty creature. Hmmm."

" _She is lovely and kind and I enjoy her_ ," Nagini hissed at Voldemort. Bellatrix smiled just a little and kept petting Nagini's head, and she noted,

"You had such an affinity for snakes, My Lord, in my time. What is she called?"

How Bellatrix knew it was a _she_ , Voldemort did not care to know. He cleared his throat a little and said,

"She's called Nagini. She quite likes you."

"She's marvelous." Bellatrix trailed her knuckles down Nagini's scales, and Voldemort's chest tightened oddly.

" _Go,_ " he commanded Nagini, and the snake hesitantly slithered away from Bellatrix. She watched the snake go, and then she turned her attention back to Voldemort.

"My Lord. I don't know what happened to the me that spent years in Azkaban. I don't care. All that matters is that I am here to serve you now, in this new war."

Voldemort dug his grey teeth into his bottom lip and decided she needed to know a little more truth.

"You don't know what happened between… erm… between you and me," he noted, and when Bellatrix seemed shocked, he clarified, "The night of your nineteenth birthday… we'd both had entirely too much to drink, and we… you know, we were together. It kept happening, with increasing frequency, until it become something of a proper affair. Only, I couldn't have you quite that close, so… I commanded you to marry Rodolphus Lestrange, which you did in 1976."

"Oh. That's why everyone keeps mentioning Rodolphus." Bellatrix stared at her lap and blinked a few times. She kept her eyes down as she asked, "Did I love him?"

"Does it matter?" Voldemort asked, and she shook her head. She was intelligent enough, even as an eighteen-year-old, to know why he would marry her off to cut off an affair. Even then, even as a warped middle-aged wizard, he'd been entirely too busy to be bothered with a young, clingy witch.

"Rodolphus and Rabastan are tired, but they certainly haven't time traveled," Voldemort said. "They'll need a few weeks to recover before being put back into service as Death Eaters. Do you know, Bella… very nearly everybody turned on me when I disappeared. They started eating themselves alive, giving up one another's names. Fleeing. Denying. But you… _you._ "

Bellatrix raised her gaze to him, and he could see that she was on the verge of tears. He shrugged a little and told her,

"They dragged you kicking and screaming from the Wizengamot whilst you shrieked at them that I would rise again."

"I would never, ever give up on the idea of you, Master," Bellatrix insisted, and again his chest hurt. He nodded.

"I know." He cleared his throat and reminded the both of them, "You're meant to be forty-five years of age. I am very old now."

"All that matters is that you get the power you deserve, My Lord," Bellatrix insisted, shoving her pretty curls away. "Perhaps I've been sent here so that I can better serve you. A forty-five-year-old me who's served fourteen years in Azkaban likely wouldn't be as much help as a younger me. Not as practised in battle, I wager, but I'll learn."

"So eager," Voldemort whispered. "You have always, always been so very eager. For everything I would give you. Any scrap of attention brought you bliss. Any touch, any kiss made you…"

He stopped then, but Bellatrix's eyes had gone wide. She didn't remember any touches or kisses. She barely remembered any battle. She had not yet lived the times they'd been physical together, nor the times she'd killed and tortured for him. She was little more than a girl, this Bellatrix who had come to him through the years.

"Do my scarlet eyes frighten you?" he asked abruptly. When Bellatrix shook her head, he scoffed and said, "I suppose I was hardly good-looking even when you knew me. Wrinkled and bent by Dark magic. But this… I am much taller, and much older, and more snake-like. Are you repulsed?"

"Quite the opposite, My Lord," Bellatrix said softly. He took a long breath through the slits of his nostrils and murmured,

"You may stay here at Malfoy Manor, in the suite of rooms I keep, until further notice. Until we've got some of this mystery sorted out. I'm sure you're not anxious to jump into bed with Rodolphus Lestrange."

"Not exactly, My Lord," she whispered, looking grateful. Voldemort nodded and said lightheartedly,

"Well, I shall do my best to keep Nagini out of your room, though it seems she's extraordinarily fond of you."

Bellatrix looked over her shoulder and smiled at the snake that held a scrap of Voldemort's soul. Bellatrix seemed drawn to Nagini, far more than any of the others were. Well, that made sense, Voldemort thought. The others had given up on him when Bellatrix had cried and screamed that her master would return. Of course she would be more magnetically attracted to his Horcrux than they all were.

"Have you any notion at all of how or why I've come here, My Lord?" Bellatrix asked suddenly, and Voldemort snapped to rights. He shook his head.

"Not yet. I'll have to do some research. Though, in my experience, meddling with time is a terribly unwise act. I'm not about to try and send you back. You're here. You're free. You'll fight for me in this time."

"I will always fight for you, Master," Bellatrix insisted, "no matter what year it is."

"So young," he whispered. He rose and walked around the desk, knowing his movements were unnaturally fluid. He wondered how Bellatrix would react to him touching her with his talon-like fingers. She didn't flinch even a little bit when he brushed her curls away from her face and said softly, "You look so very young."

"I turn nineteen next month," she reminded him, but he smirked and informed her,

"It's January. Things are more than a little thrown off, it would seem. Come on upstairs, Bella, and I'll show you your room. You must be very tired."

* * *

Bellatrix rifled through the trunk that Narcissa had sent up. It was strange to think of Cissy as an adult, married to Lucius, with a son to boot. Draco was a teenager now, but Bellatrix had never even known him. Narcissa had still been at Hogwarts when she'd fallen asleep. Cissy would come home on holidays raving about how in love she was with Lucius Malfoy, but Bellatrix would always roll her eyes a bit. Now she could see that the two of them had stayed in love and married, that they'd had a child together. It was almost too much for Bellatrix's mind to contemplate.

She pulled on a plain white nightgown and stared at herself in the full-length mirror, trying to imagine what fourteen years in Azkaban would have felt like. She tried to imagine herself at forty-five years of age, but she couldn't. She couldn't shift and warp her features the way age had done to Narcissa and Lucius and the others.

She was married to Rodolphus Lestrange. Apparently, she'd been married to him for twenty years. That in itself was a shock almost beyond measure. She'd hardly known Rodolphus, though perhaps that had been rather the point. It sounded like Lord Voldemort had set her up in a politically-minded marriage.

She'd missed so much. An entire war, the fall of her master, the way the others had forsaken him. She'd gone on trial with Rodolphus and Rabastan. She'd been shut in a cell for more than a decade. She'd missed it all and more. Perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing, Bellatrix thought. At least now, in this very time to which she'd come, Voldemort was alive and resurrected after taking a rebounded Killing Curse. Whether he looked snakelike or grey-skinned or red-eyed was of no consequence to Bellatrix. She was just glad he had made it through that trauma.

"Hello, Nagini." She saw the snake in the reflection of the mirror, wending up toward her and then raising her serpentine head. Bellatrix crouched down and studied the snake's eyes, her searching tongue, and she whispered,

"My, but you are pretty, aren't you?"

She felt drawn to the snake for a reason she couldn't quite identify. She pet its head and stared at it for a long moment, and then she heard a voice from behind her.

" _Sssayonath abathosss…_ "

Nagini mournfully slithered away, out of the grey and white bedroom. Bellatrix stood and insisted,

"She wasn't bothering me, My Lord. Honest."

He smirked a little and came into the room. He gestured toward the two armchairs before Bellatrix's crackling fireplace, and he moved smoothly as he sat. He moved like a wraith now, Bellatrix thought. Any human gangliness was long gone. He moved like a spectre in the night, like he was underwater. When she sat opposite him, he seemed to be studying her form. She was embarrassed for a moment, until he finally said,

"I'd almost forgotten you. Spending so much time without a body… then finding out you were in Azkaban… I forgot your voice. I did. I nearly forgot your face. But the face I left was thirty years old, not this, this… you're very young again."

"Still," she corrected gently. He frowned, which was a bit odd since he was lacking in eyebrows, but Bellatrix told him, "I am _still_ young, Master. I fell asleep young, and I woke up in Azkaban. I never lived all those years between. I'm not forty-five."

"Hmm." Voldemort raked his pointed fingernails along the chair arm and mused, "I'd hurt you with these, I think."

For a long moment, Bellatrix didn't know what he meant. Was he threatening her? Then she remembered that they'd had an affair, and she realised that he meant he would hurt her between her legs if he touched her with the talon-like nails. She gasped a little and squirmed where she sat.

"It has been more than twenty years since I touched you," he said simply, and Bellatrix stared right at his pale grey, noseless face and replied,

"For me, My Lord, it's _never_. You've never touched me."

He kept staring into the flames, and the fireplace cast an odd colour on his pallid cheek. He said thoughtfully,

"You used to quite like it when I…"

He trailed off then, his breath audible through the odd slits on his face. He shut his scarlet eyes and shook his head.

"Nevermind. Get some rest, Bella."

"What did I like?" Bellatrix was pushing him, she knew, and when he opened his eyes and glared at her, he said in a sibilant murmur,

"Don't toy with me, little girl."

"I didn't mean to," Bellatrix said honestly. "There's so much I can't remember because I haven't lived it yet. You said that you and I were close."

He scoffed and dragged a sharp nail over his bottom lip. "That is an understatement."

Bellatrix wished suddenly that she were a Legilimens just like him. She shrugged and asked,

"Did we… were we dating?"

"Dating?" he repeated, choking out a little laugh. He shook his head and looked almost like he pitied her as he said, "No. We were not _dating_. We were _fucking_ , rather regularly. Exclusively, as far as I could tell. Monogamously. But, no, Bella. I never took you to dinner."

"And then I married Rodolphus," Bellatrix nodded. She gulped and asked tentatively, "Did I have children with him?"

Voldemort curled up half his mouth and said bitterly, "I would not have allowed that. I needed you both in active service. We had a war to win. And, anyway, just because I'd cut things off with you didn't mean I was ready to hand you over into the loving embrace of another wizard. So far as I knew, your marriage was astonishingly platonic."

"Oh. I see." Bellatrix watched as Nagini slithered back into the room, climbing up onto Bellatrix's chair. She dropped her head down from the top of the chair, and Bellatrix dragged her knuckle back between the snake's eyes. She smiled a little at Voldemort and noted, "Nagini does like me, doesn't she?"

"Yes." Voldemort took a shaking breath and hissed quietly at the snake, " _Hyasssosssamith abathosss_."

Nagini seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then finally left, moving in a waving pattern on the wooden floor as she left the bedroom again and went out into the other parts of the suite. Voldemort watched her leave, and he seemed to be thinking hard about something.

"Master?" Bellatrix asked, and he snapped his pale face back to her. She fiddled with her hands in her lap and said, "You sat down and started to tell me about something I used to like. Something you'd do that I used to like. Will you please tell me what it was?"

His red eyes darkened for a moment, and his chapped lips parted as he seemed to consider whether or not to speak. Finally he shrugged and admitted,

"It's been twenty years. I could very well be remembering it wrong."

"Remembering what?" Bellatrix whispered. She was pushing him so hard, she knew, but she wanted answers. She wanted memories and truth. Finally he beckoned her toward him with one long, spindly finger. She rose and stood between his parted legs, realising that he was taller like this. She remember his face, scarred and bent, from the life she'd left behind. She remembered his body, lean and tall, but not this tall.

"Your hair," Voldemort said meaninfully. Bellatrix was self-conscious then as she gathered her curls over one shoulder and asked,

"What about it, Master?"

"You liked… when I used to touch your hair," he said. "When I would play with it a little. You always liked that. Sometimes I'd be talking to you, playing with your hair, and you'd have fallen asleep. It soothed you after battles, I think."

Suddenly Bellatrix's eyes seared like fire. They had been as close as that, that he had been lying beside her after a battle? She felt a tear worm its way from her eye, and she swiped quickly at it. Voldemort reached up and tentatively laced his fingers through her curls. She felt his skin, cool but still warm enough to feel alive. His fingers clenched a little, his nails scratching a bit at her scalp. His face shifted; he looked afraid all of a sudden.

Bellatrix was afraid, too, because she wanted nothing more right now than to kiss him, this monster he'd become.

"Why did I travel here?" she asked again, and once more he admitted,

"I don't know."

"You're right." Bellatrix tipped her head back a little and sighed as Voldemort toyed a bit with her curls. "I do like it."

"Bella." He sounded disbelieving then. He put his right hand to the small of her back and pulled at her, urging her down. She was straddling his lap in the chair before she knew what was happening. His hands both settled on her shoulders, and he said coolly,

"I used to like this. Having you on me like this."

"Oh." Bellatrix felt a lump beneath her, and when she moved, he hissed through his grey teeth.

"Yes, I have one, and yes, it works," Voldemort said with a smirk. Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot.

"I wasn't…" She wanted to tell him that she hadn't been thinking about his anatomy, but of course the question had crossed her mind.

"You should get some rest," Voldemort said, flicking his face back to stare at the fire. He felt distant and cold all of a sudden. He nodded and insisted, "You've had a difficult journey through time and space; you've spent a little time in a prison cell. You're confused. You should get some rest."

"Will you play with my hair whilst I fall asleep, My Lord?" Bellatrix dared to ask, but Voldemort stared at her with his terrifying, unreadable red eyes, and he shook his head slowly. He pushed on her shoulders and she rose, feeling overwhelmed by him. He cleared his throat, standing and holding his hands in front of the place where his erection had formed.

"Goodnight, Bella," he said, staring down at her. She nodded up at him, entranced all of a sudden. She shouldn't find him attractive, not like this, but she murmured,

"Goodnight, Master."

He reached out then and held her cheek in his hand, keeping his sharp nails away from her. He lowered his face down until she could hear the rattle of his breath. He was so close, and she realised he meant to kiss her. She tried to ready herself, but then he paused, hovering with their lips almost in contact.

And then he pulled away.

"Goodnight, Bella," he said again, turning and stalking away so quickly that his robes billowed out around him. He yanked the bedroom door shut behind him, leaving Bellatrix alone in a time that was foreign to her, feeling so alive she could hardly think.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. Please do review.**


	2. Chapter 2

"I hope this breakfast suits you," Narcissa said cautiously, staring at Bellatrix across the little table in the breakfast nook. "You always liked your eggs done easy, didn't you? With toast for the yolk?"

"Yes. You've a keen memory, Cissy." Bella smiled a little at the woman who, just days earlier, had been a gawky teenage girl. She poked at her egg until the yolk broke and smeared all over her toast. She picked the toast up and took a bite, and as she chewed, Narcissa said in a careful tone,

"The Dark Lord says we must keep you secret for now. I think he's quite right. Severus Snape came here this morning asking to see you; he said he wanted to lay eyes on you after so many years of imprisonment. But if word got out that Bellatrix Lestrange had traveled through time, then -"

"Bellatrix Lestrange." She repeated the name and scoffed a little. "I have not lived through anything involving Rodolphus Lestrange."

"Oh. Right." Narcissa looked a little embarrassed, and then a little sad. "I suppose you don't remember my wedding to Lucius."

"How could I remember it? It hasn't happened yet for me," Bellatrix pointed out. She tried to soften her face then, seeing sorrow in Narcissa's slightly wrinkled face, and she asked, "Will you tell me about your boy? Draco?"

"He's nearly a man grown now," Narcissa said with a wistful smile. "You never knew him, not even in my memory. You knew him as a baby. You didn't like to hold him back then; you were uncomfortable round him."

"I was uncomfortable around _you_ when _you_ were a baby," Bellatrix laughed softly, and Narcissa looked so confused that Bellatrix thought she might cry. Bellatrix stuffed a few bites of sausage into her mouth and swigged her orange juice.

"Draco is very good in school," Narcissa said. "Popular with his fellow Slytherins."

"Well, of course," Bellatrix nodded. "He's yours and Lucius', isn't he?"

There was tension then, so palpable that Bellatrix gnawed her lip. She ate some more of her breakfast in silence until Narcissa asked softly,

"How did you really get her, Bella?"

"It's like I said." Bellatrix set down her orange juice and folded her hands on the table. "I fell asleep in Mummy and Daddy's house, and when I woke up, I was on cold, hard ground in Azkaban."

Narcissa shook her head and murmured, "I just can't believe it. It's so bizarre."

"Yes, well… try being in my shoes and not having a damned clue as to what's happened in the last twenty-six years," Bellatrix huffed. She stood and said, "Thanks for breakfast, Cissy. I'm going to go do a little research… see if I can't find out more about what happened to me. I'll lay low. See you."

* * *

Voldemort walked briskly through the corridors toward the Malfoy Manor library. He wasn't sure why he preferred to go barefoot these days, but he did. He liked the feel of his feet touching the ground, whether it was mud or rock or grass or carpet. He liked the way his eyes and nose were more attuned, too. But he did not much care for the way that, the night before, he'd been able to feel Harry Potter for a brief moment.

It had lasted just a few seconds, just when he had been about to kiss Bellatrix. He'd felt the boy's presence in his mind, as though he were the victim of Legilimency. He'd quickly sent Bellatrix away, his long-held lust for her melting away. But then he'd laid in his bed and thought of her, touching himself frantically as he relieved the sight and smell and feel of her young body. Her hair, her bright eyes… he wanted her again, just like he'd wanted her twenty-six years earlier. And here she was, young and new, untouched and unsullied by war and life and sex.

Voldemort walked into the library and then froze. She was in here. He could feel her.

He stalked slowly around a large wingback chair to see her with her legs tucked up, her short skirt riding up her thigh. She was buried in a thick tome about time travel. Voldemort cleared his throat gently, and she stood so fast that she dropped the book. He wandlessly guided it back into her hands and noted,

"Time travel. You're doing research."

"Trying to figure out how to get back, Master," Bellatrix informed him. "Or, at least, to figure out how it is that I got here."

"I told you," Voldemort reminded her, "Awful things happen when one meddles with time. You've arrived here through your sleep. Knowing more than that is dangerous, I think."

"And will I live in shadows forever?" Bellatrix demanded. "Must I be kept secret forever?"

"As it happens, I too came here for research," Voldemort informed her. "I was going to look into longer-lasting ageing potions. Something that would make you appear as though you were… you know, the correct age."

"Forty-five?" Bellatrix balked visibly, her mouth falling open. "No, Master. Please. I beg you."

He laughed then, harshly and maliciously. He moved to stare out the window onto the icy lawn and folded his arms over his robes.

"Forty-five years old. I was older than that the last time I saw you. Much older than that. Is it the worst thing you can imagine, to be forty-five years old?"

"But I'll be old and… and shriveled. Wrinkled. I'll have grey in my hair!" Bellatrix protested.

"I never pegged you as being so very vain, Bellatrix," Voldemort said, feeling a mixture of amusement and irritation. He sighed and told her, "If I send you back - even if I knew how - I fear the consequences. I can avoid ageing you if I explain that part of healing you from fourteen years in Azkaban involved you looking younger. People around here have become somewhat accustomed to others… changing form."

He turned around slowly then, and Bellatrix nodded. "Please don't make me look old, Master. If I'd earned the years, if I'd lived them, that would be different. But I can't…"

"You don't just look young." Voldemort was thinking out loud then. "You _are_ young."

She nodded, and he approached her. He snared his sharp fingernails through her curls and then would a kinky ringlet around his spindly finger. He sighed as he studied her young, beautiful face, and he mumbled,

"You used to like when I did this."

"I like it," Bellatrix informed him in an airy voice. She was bold then, reaching up to press her palm flat against Voldemort's chest. He sucked in air hard through the slits on his face where a proper nose ought to be, and he hissed at the snake around his feet,

" _Nagini, leave us be for a moment."_

" _Kiss her, Master,"_ Nagini hissed back in Parseltongue. Voldemort didn't answer. He moved his hand from Bellatrix's hair to her face, and he murmured,

"You used to taste like black tea and peppermint. I wonder…"

"You're the Dark Lord, and you may do as you please," she whispered up at him. "I don't know how I taste. You could find out, if you wanted."

"I remember," he told her. Then, pushing himself farther than he wanted to go, he added, "When I was without a body, I could still taste it. Black tea and peppermint. In the years after I sent you away, when you married Rodolphus Lestrange, I could still taste it."

He bent then, quickly and assertively, and he pressed his cool lips to her soft, warm ones. She gasped, her mouth opening at once. Voldemort didn't dare press his tongue into her mouth. Instead he just sucked on her lip and drank her in.

Then he moaned softly, entirely unable to held himself.

His hands were all over her, pulling her close by the small of the back, snaring his aggressive nails into her ringlets. He smashed his face more tightly against hers and breathed in.

It was _her_. Bellatrix, the witch he'd wrenched away from himself when she'd been twenty-five and far too closely associated with him. Bellatrix, the witch he'd married off to Rodolphus Lestrange because she'd started to mean entirely too much. Bellatrix, the witch who had served him since her teen years, who had spent so long languishing in Azkaban after being one of the only ones who refused to surrender the idea of him, of Lord Voldemort rising again.

Bellatrix, who was young and here and beautiful. He pulled his mouth away and stared at her in shock. She was breathless, touching her fingertips to her bottom lip, and she whispered,

"Well, My Lord?"

"Black tea and peppermint," he said firmly. Then he cleared his throat and said quite authoritatively, "I will keep you young and explain that healing you made you look like this."

He turned back toward the window, very angry at himself for having kissed her, tasted her, gone hard for her. He gulped, his throat feeling constricted, and he said,

"Go hide somewhere else, Bellatrix."

There was a long, heavy pause, and then she said from behind him, "Yes, Master."

* * *

"Snuck away from school, have you, Severus?" Voldemort glanced down and realised Nagini had left. He sighed a little; the snake had likely gone upstairs to be with Bellatrix. The two were so drawn together.

"It is past curfew, Master," Snape said as he sat opposite Voldemort.

"And your birthday, is it not?" Voldemort flashed Snape a wicked smirk. "Happy birthday."

"I do not usually mark the day, My Lord," Snape said, folding his hands in his lap. "I met with Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange when I first arrived. They look well for two wizards who spent over a decade in Azkaban."

"I am aware that you are particularly anxious to lay eyes on Bellatrix," Voldemort informed Snape. Then, mocking him, he posited, "Anxious to take news back to her enemies at Hogwarts, hm? Tell them all how wretched your old foe looks? The two of you always did fight like cats."

"Albus Dumbledore did request some information," Snape said. "He thinks that perhaps Bellatrix is dead."

"She is not dead. What would make him think that?" Voldemort snapped, suspicious all of a sudden. Severus Snape cleared his throat and said delicately,

"I think perhaps Dumbledore suspected they would have administered her the Dementor's Kiss years ago and left her body to die, Master. Owing to the serious nature of the charges against her."

"Well, she's fine," Voldemort snarled. "Better than fine. In the process of healing her up, I did have to… well, Dark magic can have unintended consequences on the appearance, as you can plainly see before you."

"Is she… erm… disfigured in some way?" Snape asked, looking abruptly concerned. Voldemort sneered and asked,

"Why do you care so much, Severus? I seem to recall having to break up a duel between you and Bellatrix. You'd be happy if she were made hideous, wouldn't you? Only, that is not the case. She is made young. Or, at least… she looks young. She looks right around eighteen or so."

"Intriguing," Snape said, raising his eyebrows. "I did not know her then. I was only a boy. Was she very pretty?"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "She's healing. Tell Dumbledore that Bellatrix Black is better than ever."

He caught himself then, realising he'd called her _Bellatrix Black_. Not Lestrange. Black. He swallowed hard and shrugged.

"Did you come here for any reason other than to inquire after Bellatrix?"

"Yes, My Lord." Snape looked serious. "Harry Potter continues to complain that he feels your presence in his mind. There is certainly some form of connection. Dumbledore has asked me to teach the boy Occlumency, but the boy is a dismal failure."

There was silence then as realisation came over Voldemort. He shut his eyes and then took a long breath through the slits of his nose.

"You were told about Bellatrix by Dumbledore, who was told about her by Harry Potter. You already knew that she was young."

"The boy went to Dumbledore," Snape admitted. "He said he saw her through your eyes and that he could tell it was not a memory because of the colour of your hand."

"My hand." Voldemort felt anger flush through his veins then, and Snape looked anxious as he said cautiously.

"Your hand was in… in Bellatrix's hair, according to Potter."

"I will keep him out," Voldemort vowed. He shut his eyes and immediately employed every smidge of Occlumency he possessed, putting up a wall between himself and Harry Potter. He nodded at Snape and said,

"Thank you for informing me. You may go."

Snape rose and bowed his head, and as he turned to leave the office, Voldemort called after him,

"Happy birthday, Severus."

* * *

" _Hyanosss athasssosss. Nyathanosss ssayeth."_

Bellatrix sprang awake at the sound of the hissing. She watched as Nagini slithered off of her bed and made her way to the doorway. Lord Voldemort stood there, looking almost as serpentine as Nagini. He seemed abashed when Bellatrix woke up.

"I did not intend on waking you," he said without apology. "I was merely summoning Nagini back."

"She seemed very insistent upon sleeping in here. I'm sorry, Master," Bellatrix said. She blinked and looked at the clock ticking on the wall. Two o'clock. How long had she been asleep?

"I do need you to stay secret for a little longer," Voldemort said, walking slowly into the room. "There are some who are suspicious about your appearance. I do not want to feed that suspicion. You'll have to memorise the history you ought to know - everything before your stint in Azkaban."

"I'll memorise whatever you tell me, Master." Bellatrix sat up and leaned back against the leather headboard. She was surprised when Voldemort sat on the edge of the bed and sniffed a little.

"Let's start where you left off," he suggested. "Your nineteenth birthday. It was your first birthday outside Hogwarts in many years, so your parents threw an autumn garden party for you at their house. I was working with your father on finances, and you were already a Death Eater, so naturally I came. You were sour about having to participate in a silly little birthday party, so you didn't. You just stood alone and got very drunk."

Bellatrix laughed a little and asked, "What did I drink, Master?"

"Lavender Slip-Ups," he said immediately. Bellatrix coughed out a laugh and demanded,

"Lavender syrup, lemonade, and gin? I do like those."

"Yes. You liked five of them," Voldemort informed her. He was smiling just a little then, and looking down at the wand he held in his clawed hands. "I drank three or four gin and tonics, and soon enough we were… erm… just talking, you know. Much more freely than we'd done before. And then you said that you disliked your dress and wanted to change. I saw straight through you. I followed you inside… things got…"

"I understand," Bellatrix whispered, but Voldemort raised his red eyes to her and insisted,

"It was good. Very good. And I wanted more. A week later I called you through your Dark Mark to Malfoy Manor. Took you against a bookshelf in the library."

"The library?" Bellatrix breathed. "Where we were yesterday?"

"In October, you killed five Muggles for me in our first big attack meant to frighten the Ministry," Voldemort continued, looking away from Bellatrix again. "I was proud of you; you'd done very well. In November, you burned out a shop in Hogsmeade in the middle of the night. A place owned by a Mudblood. You'd begun to really fight for me."

"Well, I wish I remembered that," Bellatrix said softly, her heart racing. "Fighting for you is all I've ever really wanted to do, Master."

"I know. And you did. You did it so, so well." He turned his wand over in his hand, dragging his fingernails along it. Suddenly Bellatrix noticed something.

"You've cut your nails."

He said nothing. Bellatrix's mouth fell open. He'd mentioned hurting her with his sharp, pointed fingernails. But they weren't sharp or even long now. He'd cut them very short indeed. He sighed and pursed his lips.

"It was difficult to hold a quill and write," he insisted. "I needn't give any explanation beyond that."

"No, of course you needn't," Bellatrix murmured. Still, she found herself reminding him, "You could have anything now that you had then."

"You wanted me," he said, so harshly that his voice growled. He snapped his face up to her, and she was very frightened all of a sudden. "I was not a handsome man by then. My face had been scarred, made harsh and blunt and unappealing by the Dark Arts. But you wanted me _badly_ then, Bellatrix. It wasn't even a month after you… you said you fell asleep in August, and you wanted me badly in September."

"I want you badly now," she said honestly. Suddenly Voldemort aimed his wand at her and mumbled a spell she quickly recognised as a contraceptive charm. Her stomach churned with excitement at that, at the idea that he was about to take her body.

She shouldn't want him. Not like this. He was entirely too old now. Even if she hadn't aged, he had done so. His new body was barely human - translucent, papery skin the colour of milk, eyes like glimmering rubies, veins running along his bare head, his fingers long spindles. He was not, by anyone's definition, attractive in the physical sense. Or, at least, he shouldn't have been. But Bellatrix had been obsessed with Voldemort for years in her own time. She didn't doubt for one moment his account of her nineteenth birthday party. She would have made all sorts of moves upon him drunk. Now she was welcoming it sober, having traveled through the ages to find him again.

"Lie down, Bellatrix," she heard his voice say sternly, and she blinked a few times as she realised she'd had her eyes closed. She did as he said, staring up at him as he began to peel back the blankets.


	3. Chapter 3

"Take off your nightgown."

Voldemort watched as Bellatrix obeyed him, sliding the nightgown up and over her head. She carefully worked her satin knickers down over her hips and placed them beside her with the nightgown, and then she was bared to him. She covered herself on instinct, shrinking back a little and putting a skinny forearm before her breasts. Voldemort pulled her arm away, moving smoothly but not gently.

"Pretty," he whispered, staring right at her little round breasts. She'd been beautiful at twenty-five, the last time he'd had her body, but he'd almost forgotten her like this, just on the cusp of adulthood, and then he realised something. He reached out to drag his knuckles around the curve of her breast, and he noted, "You were a virgin on your nineteenth birthday."

"I am a virgin, Master," Bellatrix whispered. He watched her nipples pucker from the attention his cool, lanky fingers were giving her. He swallowed hard and said matter-of-factly,

"This is going to hurt, in that case."

He wrenched her legs apart, making her gasp with shock, and he thought perhaps he should move a little more carefully. He cleared his throat and let his hand trail down from her breast, dancing over her thigh and coming to rest between her legs. He was throbbing hard now, his new cock so much more sensitive than the one he'd had in his old body. And it had been twenty years; he hadn't touched a witch since his last dalliance with Bellatrix before her marriage. He swallowed hard and pressed the pads of his fingers to her folds.

Then he frowned, because she was very dry. He let out a dissatisfied sort of noise and informed her,

"It won't work very well if you… if your body doesn't want it."

"I'm sorry, My Lord," she mumbled. "I'm just nervous."

"Hmm." He began to pulse his right fingers on her, and with his left hand, he reached for her hair. She liked it when he touched her hair, when he played with her curls. So he did that, and soon enough she had tipped her head back a bit, her breasts heaving beautifully. Voldemort was so hard that it hurt, and he grunted quietly. He felt a rush of wetness around his fingers, as though someone had flicked a switch inside of Bellatrix. Her cheeks flushed pink, and it spread in a spider web weave down her neck and chest. She was alive now. She wanted him, just like she'd wanted him twenty-six years earlier.

"Oh," she said, a hoarse sort of disbelief in her voice. She stared at him for a moment, and suddenly Voldemort felt abjectly self-conscious. He was hideous like this, he knew. He didn't mind ordinarily; he was more intimidating than ever like this. But he had his fingers on Bella, and she was staring at him, and so he felt self-conscious.

"Please," she whispered, licking her lips and making him shiver with want. She started to feel warm and swollen around his fingers, like her body was making ready to fully receive him. He twisted his two fingers into her, tearing through her virginal resistance, and she arched her back and cried out. Voldemort pumped his fingers a few times, spread them out once or twice, and then pulled them from her. There was no blood, which made sense. She had been an obvious virgin on her nineteenth birthday, but she hadn't bled then, either. She'd bled a few years earlier, she'd told him, when she'd been playing with herself, using a thick candle to help her.

He didn't tell her now that he knew about that. She'd been drunk when she'd revealed it.

"Please," she whispered again, and on instinct, Voldemort bent down and put his lips beside her ear.

"Please what?"

"Please, Master…" Her hand was pressed to his bald scalp then, which shocked him. She wasn't repulsed at all. She was filled with a desire he hadn't thought someone could bear a form like his. She was panting. She was squirming. She was touching his head. His voice shook far too much then as he whispered her name, the syllables poetry on his lips.

"Bellatrix…"

He sat up then, for everything was feeling far too intimate. He set his mind to the task at hand, turning away a little and parting his robes, unbuttoning his linen trousers and pulling himself out. He didn't want her to see too much of him. He was embarrassingly hairless. His arms and chest and stomach were sickeningly thin. His cock was bigger than his old one had been, but it was odd-looking, with its pale grey colour and the visible veins running up the shaft. He clasped a large hand around his shaft to conceal himself the best he could, and then he quickly turned back to Bellatrix.

Keeping himself mostly concealed by his robes, he took hold of her hips and lined himself up. He avoided eye contact as he thrust into her, ignoring the way she seethed in pain through clenched teeth. He just started fucking then, as though she were practised in a way he knew she was not. He slammed his hips roughly against her, pounding her mercilessly until she started to clench at the sheets. Then he had an odd desire, and he instructed her,

"Hold onto me."

She seemed confused, her face twisted from the agonising way he was drilling her. She finally latched onto his forearms, and he gritted his teeth. He was so sensitive, even at nearly seventy years of age. This form had no real age; this form was just a shell to hold a piece of his soul. But this form was sensitive. He couldn't do anything about that, not now. He shut his eyes and felt come leaping from him in erratic jerks as his ears flushed hot and his heart raced in his chest.

"Bella," he heard himself whisper, far too affectionately. "Bella."

He pulled out of her, knowing that she hadn't derived much pleasure from the experience. He wandlessly siphoned up the mess that was leaking out of her, and he Scoured the both of them. Then he hurriedly tucked himself away and sat on the edge of the bed as he instructed her,

"Put your knickers back on."

She seemed ashamed and sore as she moved to pull on her knickers and then her nightgown. This, Voldemort thought, had been very different from when they'd been drunk at her birthday party. She'd been a mess of giggles that day. But things had changed. He'd changed, to be certain.

"I apologise if you did not enjoy that," he said cautiously, but Bellatrix shook her head a little and insisted,

"It was… nice."

He laughed then, a low chuckle, and he shook his head.

"No, it wasn't. Not for you." He couldn't stop himself then from reaching and twirling a bit of her hair round his finger. He brushed his knuckle over her cheek and told her,

"In December of 1970, you let me… or, rather, I insisted upon…"

His voice died then, for he couldn't verbalise what he was remembering. He wanted to tell her about the first time he'd put his mouth between her legs. She'd come so hard then that she hadn't been able to speak properly for ten minutes afterward. She'd liked that. She'd liked that quite a lot.

"It doesn't matter," Voldemort said out loud. Bellatrix frowned a little, and Voldemort pulled his hand away. He rose and cleared his throat again. "I didn't mean to wake you. Nagini is very fond of you."

"You needn't make her leave if she comes back," Bellatrix insisted. "I was comforted by her presence."

"Were you?" Voldemort asked tightly, and Bellatrix shrugged, wrapping her arms round herself.

"I'm not sure why."

"I know why." Voldemort glanced out toward the rest of the suite, where he knew Nagini was curled up in wait. That snake had part of his soul; of course it wanted to be near Bellatrix. He gulped and stared at the clock on the wall as he said,

"Goodnight, Bellatrix."

"Goodnight, Master." Her voice made his chest ache, just like it had ached ever since she'd shown up in this time. He hadn't felt anything like that since the night before her wedding to Rodolphus Lestrange, since the time he'd told her goodnight and had known it was forever.

He'd been wrong, apparently. She was here. He'd just rutted her like an animal, being far more distant than he'd ever been with her in his old life. But she was here, and he was new to her, and his chest hurt because of her.

He started walking toward the door, and he stopped in the threshold with a hand on each side of the door jamb. He pursed his thin lips and shut his scarlet eyes, and he said again,

"Goodnight, Bella."

He glanced over his shoulder to see her smiling weakly at him. She wrung her hands in her lap and nodded.

"Goodnight, My Lord."

* * *

"Bella?"

She sprang up from her chair, whirling around from the book she was reading about creative hexing. She aimed her wand at the sound of her name, for the voice was unfamiliar. A greying wizard stood in the threshold of the library, his hands in the air in surrender. His eyes were wide, and he breathed,

"So it's true. You're… you're..."

"Rodolphus," Bellatrix whispered, lowering her wand. She walked toward him, toward the man she'd apparently been married to for twenty years. Not knowing what else to do, she tucked her wand away and said awkwardly, "Good to see you."

"Is it true, what Lucius said?" Rodolphus demanded, and Bellatrix scowled. She smelled firewhisky on Rodolphus.

"What did Lucius say?" she demanded, and Rodolphus studied Bellatrix's face and body in a way that made her feel uncomfortable.

"Lucius said," Rodolphus began, "that you had fallen asleep in 1970 and woken up in Azkaban just a few days before the Dementors freed us. Snape came by and asked to see you. He seemed curious. Is this all true, Bella? Did you… did you fall asleep as a teenager and wake up in your cell?"

"I'm not meant to discuss it," Bellatrix said awkwardly. Rodolphus narrowed his eyes at her and seized her face in his hands. Bellatrix squealed and took a step backward, and she shoved Rodolphus' chest so hard that he staggered.

"Don't touch me!" she snarled, and a look of realisation came over Rodolphus' face.

"You don't know me," he said in awe. "Bella… before we went to Azkaban, I loved you. I was… we were _married_ , you and I. We did everything together. Everything."

Bellatrix shook her head and insisted, "I have no way of remembering things that haven't happened to me yet. I don't know you, no. I'm sorry."

"So am I," Rodolphus said, looking distraught. He blinked a few times and tears welled in his blue eyes, and he mumbled, "Every day in Azkaban, I dreamed of seeing you again. Every day, I called out for you. Sometimes you would answer me. One day, you stopped answering. Then we got freed, and -"

"Wait. Our cells were adjacent?" Bellatrix demanded, and Rodolphus scowled at her.

"Yes," he said aggressively. "You were just on the other side of a stone wall from me. Our windows opened right outside. If I shouted loudly enough, you could hear me and shout back. But a few months ago, I stopped getting answers. I was afraid you were dead, or that they'd administered the Kiss to you. You never answered me again."

"A few _months_ ago?" Bellatrix was shocked. Rodolphus sank his teeth into his lip and demanded,

"Why does this matter? You're a bloody teenager! That's what's bizarre here."

"I have to go," Bellatrix said, pushing past him out the library door. "Sorry, Rodolphus. I have to go. I'm glad… erm… glad you're doing well. Sorry I don't remember much."

He seemed perplexed as she rushed down the corridor, past some gossiping portraits, and down a winding staircase in the corner. Her bare feet pattered on the carpet until she reached the door that she knew led to the Dark Lord's office. She rapped her knuckles quickly on the door and waited in breathless anticipation. The door swung slowly open, and Bellatrix leaped into the room with dancing steps to see Lord Voldemort sitting at his desk, apparently consumed by the contents of a letter before him.

"Yes?" he prompted, raking his spindly fingers over his bald, veiny head. Bellatrix waited for him to look up, and she said,

"My Lord, Rodolphus Lestrange just told me that he used to call out for me, screaming from his cell to mine. He says that I used to answer. But a few months ago, I stopped answering."

Voldemort looked aghast for a moment, and then he said quietly, "A few months ago. So you disappeared. You vanished."

"It would seem so, Master," Bellatrix said, twisting her fingers together. She gulped and said, "My other body… my forty-five-year-old self… left. Went somewhere. I thought you ought to know that, My Lord."

"Yes. Thank you for telling me," Voldemort said tightly. He set down the letter he'd been reading and prompted her, "What else did Rodolphus say to you?"

Bellatrix hesitated. "He said that… that he'd loved me. That we used to do everything together, he and I."

"Mmm-hmm." Voldemort flicked his eyes out at the flurries that had begun to fall. He sniffed a little and said, "I do think that he fell very much in love with you after I had you marry him. You didn't ever love him back. I could tell."

Bellatrix was silent. She had no idea what to say to that. Voldemort seemed so cold, so angry about something Bellatrix couldn't pin down. She inhaled and opened her mouth to speak, but the words died on her lips, and he asked her,

"Is there anything else?"

She considered asking him whether she would get to serve him again like she'd apparently done before. She wanted to ask him if she'd get to take out Muggles and enemies for him like she'd done in the life he remembered. She craved that idea - being a soldier for him. But she just shook her head and said,

"No, Master. Nothing else."

* * *

Voldemort stared at the ceiling where he lay in bed, wearing nothing but black flannel trousers. He knew she was awake. He could feel her mind pulsing just on the other side of the wall. Why he was still letting her stay here, he wasn't sure. He should get her a flat, or make her stay in a different suite. For some reason, he didn't much like that idea. In any case, he couldn't sleep with the feel of her thoughts poking in, and he didn't have the strength to block her presence out. Not whilst he was so actively blocking out Harry Potter.

So Voldemort rose from his bed, pulling a heavy black velvet robe on and cinching it tightly round his waist. He hissed in Parseltongue for Nagini to stay in his bed. He walked with bare feet from his bedroom into his sitting room, and then through the little dining nook that was sunny in the day time. He came to Bellatrix's bedroom and thought perhaps he ought to knock. But he was her lord and master, and he didn't need permission to enter a room in his own suite. He took his time with the door lever, thinking that at least he'd give her a moment to escape into the bathroom if she was indecent.

When he opened the door, she was sitting up in her bed with a wall sconce lit. She had a book propped up on her legs - _Hellacious Hexes for a Curious Mind_.

"Planning on hexing someone?" he asked bluntly, and Bellatrix shut the book as he stepped inside.

"I just want to be prepared, Master," she told him. "If you ever decide to put me into your service, then I want to be ready to serve you properly."

He smirked a little and said, "The Tetraplegus Hex. You used to use it all the time in battle. It would render someone paralysed in all four limbs. Only temporary, but it didn't drain your energy the way a major Curse would, and it always gave you time to get the enemy's wand away. You were quite clever with the Tetraplegus Hex."

Bellatrix frowned and looked down at the book. "I haven't found that one yet."

"No. I taught it to you. It isn't in any book, because I invented it." Voldemort studied her face as she reacted. She blinked a few times and nodded, looking very impressed. He picked up wand off the side table, put it in her hand, and drew a snaking set of concentric squares in the air, his fingers wrapped around hers.

"Keep the corners of the squares tight and crisp," he informed her. "The incantation is _Tetraplegus._ "

"Thank you." Bellatrix lowered her wand and then stared at Voldemort's hand. For some reason, he didn't take his fingers away. Instead, on instinct, he started to rub her there, to caress her hand with his, and some odd impulse made him say,

"I lied to you."

Bellatrix said nothing in response to that. He raised his eyes and shrugged, keeping his voice impassive as he said,

"You asked if you and I had ever dated, and I answered that it had been sexual. Nothing else. But the truth is… I did have dinner alone with you, many times. We never went out; it wasn't a date. It was always private. And the last time… the very last time… was the night before you married Rodolphus Lestrange."

Bellatrix's mouth fell open, and she shook her head as she insisted,

"I never would have wanted him."

"No. You didn't want him then, either," Voldemort confirmed. "You fought me tooth and nail on it. Ultimately, I ordered you to marry him, and you did, because you were always very obedient. But you cried harder that night - the night before your wedding - than I'd ever seen you cry. And that degree of emotion is precisely why I insisted you marry."

Bellatrix sniffed a bit, her hand shaking under his fingers. She let go of her wand and laced her tiny fingers through his long, grey ones, and she asked,

"Were you there, My Lord? At my wedding?"

"No," he answered at once. "No. I couldn't… I didn't want to go, so I didn't go."

"I see." Bellatrix brushed her thumb over Voldemort's, which made him shiver. He wasn't hard; he didn't want sex right now. This was strangely pleasant, sitting with her and holding her hand. It was oddly satisfying. He stared right at her, knowing his crimson eyes were horrifying to see, and he told her,

"You'll be in my service soon. We're in a new war, and I want you fighting."

"And the other part?" Bellatrix asked tentatively. "What happened last night…"

Fucking, she meant. She was asking if they were going to be physical the way they'd been in Voldemort's past, in her future. He squeezed a little at her hand and then forced himself to release it.

"We were both wounded by it all," he said. "You can't remember, because you haven't lived it yet. But it's the only time in my life that I felt real grief… that night before your wedding. I have absolutely no desire to relive any of it. What happened last night was a mistake. It won't happen again."

Bellatrix seemed befuddled by that, but she finally nodded and murmured,

"I understand, Master."

But he didn't want her to understand that. He let out a breath that shook entirely too much, and he impulsively climbed up onto the bed beside her. He sat up against the leather headboard and said firmly,

"Put your book aside and lie on my lap."

She did, moving quickly to follow his orders. Obedient like always, he thought. His breath caught in his chest as she arranged herself so that she was lying back across his thighs, her hair cascading around her and her wide eyes staring up at him.

"You used to like doing this," he informed her, his voice distant to his own ears. "You used to fall asleep like this."

He twirled her hair around his finger and then let it go, brushing his nails up along her scalp. She shut her eyes and asked him softly,

"How many times did I fall asleep with you?"

No _Master._ No _My Lord_. She'd forgotten sometimes, in his past, when she'd been comfortable with him. He swallowed hard and answered her,

"It was only now and then at first. Then it became… frequent. Too frequent."

"So you made me marry Rodolphus," Bellatrix suggested, and Voldemort tightened his hand in her hair as he whispered,

"Yes. So I made you marry Rodolphus."

"And did it work?" Bellatrix asked. He studied her face and waited, and she finally clarified, "Did it work, sending me away? Did it help you win the war?"

"I lost the war," Voldemort reminded her. "No. It did not help. Try to get some sleep, Bella."

He tipped his head back against the headboard and shut his eyes, twining his fingers in Bellatrix's curls until he heard her breath grow slow and deep.


	4. Chapter 4

Bellatrix blinked her eyes open to see the face of a snake.

Nagini. She smiled a little and pet the snake's head, whispering,

"Where's your master gone?"

Nagini lowered her head and nudged at a little scrap of parchment. Bellatrix frowned and picked it up, seeing neat handwriting upon it.

_Dinner. Tonight at eight. Downstairs._

Bellatrix's heart thumped in her chest, and she raised her eyes to Nagini. She stared right into the snake's dark, mysterious eye, and she wondered aloud,

"Is he fond of me, d'you think? I wish he were. I'm awfully fond of him."

The rest of the day passed interminably. Bellatrix found herself staring out a window in the library for over an hour, watching frigid rain fall outside. Finally she decided she was going to walk outside, despite the cold. She headed down the main staircase in a heavy waterproofed cloak, and she heard from behind her,

"Bella? Where are you going?"

"Rodolphus." Bellatrix turned round and sighed. "What are you doing here?"

He scowled. "I'm here getting orders from the Dark Lord. Training myself again so I can serve him. Fourteen years in Azkaban makes one a bit rusty with a wand, you know."

"Need some help practising?" Bellatrix asked, and Rodolphus cocked up an eyebrow.

"You're going to duel me?"

"To help you practise," she repeated, and Rodolphus smirked and nodded. He walked outside with Bellatrix, and then he said,

"You're really lovely like this. Young. I do feel a bit odd, having a wife who's so much younger than me."

"I'm not your wife," Bellatrix said firmly. When Rodolphus looked angry, she clarified, "I'm not even nineteen; I'm not married. I haven't lived through our wedding or our marriage."

"But we did get married," Rodolphus told her as they stepped out into the gardens. The waterproofed cloak did little good against the freezing rain, and Bellatrix shivered as she insisted,

"No. You married me after I left my time. The forty-five-year-old me vanished months ago. You and I - this me - we were never married. I'm sorry, Rodolphus, but I'm not your wife."

He seemed far more excited about duelling her at that. Rodolphus looked irritated as he took his place on the sopping dead grass, and he bowed perfunctorily. Bellatrix mimicked the motion and then held her wand up.

" _Ducklifors!_ " Rodolphus cried, slashing his wand downward. There was a flash of yellow light, but Bellatrix quickly blocked the spell and scowled.

"Trying to turn me into a damned duck, Rodolphus? Really. _Ebublio._ "

Rodolphus looked shocked as a large bubble of water formed from the falling rain, encompassing him entirely. He thrashed against the water and then went still for a moment, and Bellatrix was mildly concerned he might drown. Then she saw a blast of orange, fiery light and realised he'd cast a Blasting Curse from inside the bubble. It burst at once, sending water cascading all around him. He was completely drenched then as he aimed his wand at Bellatrix, but she made a careful mark of winding squares with sharp corners and incanted,

" _Tetraplegus!_ "

Rodolphus collapsed at once, his limbs giving out on him. Bellatrix watched him drop his wand, and she cried,

" _Expelliarmus!_ "

The wand came soaring at her, whizzing through the air, and she caught it deftly with her left hand. She watched as her Tetraplegus Hex started to wear off, as Rodolphus very slowly and clumsily made his way onto his knees.

"Ah… yes…" he panted, sounding desperate for air. "Your old favourite. I should have known."

Bellatrix shut her eyes tightly. This was all so much to take in. Voldemort and Rodolphus both had vivid memories of her using a spell she'd only learnt the night before. She shook her head a little and aimed her wand at him.

" _Finite Incantatem._ "

Rodolphus stood more quickly then, and Bellatrix approached him, holding his wand out.

"Fair to say you won that duel, I suppose," he told her, shivering like mad as he took his wand. "I think I'll head home. You probably don't know where that is."

"Castle Lestrange, I reckon." Bellatrix had grown up in the Pureblood world. She at least knew where the families lived. Rodolphus shook his head and frowned.

"No. Rabastan has the castle. You and I lived in a townhouse in London. A pretty place… nice and airy."

"I wouldn't know," Bellatrix reminded him, and he tightened his lips.

"No. You wouldn't know. Thanks for the practise, Bella."

She watched him make his way out of the gardens and through the gate, where he Disapparated. Then there was movement in a window, and Bellatrix snapped her face up to see Voldemort staring out of his office onto the grounds below. When she caught his scarlet eyes, he nodded once and turned away. Bellatrix pushed her soaked hair from her eyes and turned to walk inside, thinking that perhaps she ought to make herself look decent for dinner.

* * *

Bellatrix was exceedingly anxious as she headed down the winding stairs in the corner of the manor. Nagini followed close behind; she'd stayed near Bellatrix as she'd put Sleekeazy's in her hair and carefully applied mascara and lipstick. She'd put on a black gown with flowing, pleated silk skirts - a treasure she'd found in the trunk Narcissa had provided for her. It had been a bit too long, so she'd hemmed it carefully with her wand. Narcissa was a few inches taller.

Bellatrix carefully approached the dining room. This was what he'd meant by 'downstairs,' surely? Perhaps the Malfoys would be there. Or perhaps they'd already eaten. Bellatrix gulped and stepped into the room, and Voldemort rose slowly from the chair where he was sitting. His red eyes flashed wildly as they panned up and down her form, and he said softly,

"You certainly dressed to the nines. Sit."

Bellatrix did, feeling rather far away from him, even just across the width of the table. She unfolded her napkin and put it on her lap, and she cleared her throat as roasted beets with goat cheese and greens appeared before her. She sipped a little at her white wine and waited for Voldemort to take the first bite. After he did, Bellatrix smiled a little and told him,

"I quite like beetroot."

"I know," Voldemort said simply. Bellatrix couldn't keep her eyes from burning then. She studied his hands as he ate. They were so long and pale, so odd, almost alien in their form. But she remembered the feel of him touching her hair and scalp, of him massaging her breast and touching her between her legs…

She finished her first course and set her fork down. Both her food and Voldemort's disappeared, and he informed her,

"The new House-Elf here… he's a fair cook."

"Yes, it does seem so, Master," Bellatrix agreed.

"I saw you duelling Rodolphus," Voldemort said tightly, sipping from his wine. Bellatrix nodded.

"Yes. You were watching."

"You used the Tetraplegus Hex," he noted, "as well as a few other quite clever spells. You're ready for combat. He is not."

"Well, he's spent fourteen years in prison, My Lord," Bellatrix said, "with all due respect."

"And you're a teenager," he said sharply. "Neither of you should be ready, but you are. You're ready. I have a job for you."

"Is that why you asked me to dinner, Master?" Bellatrix wondered, and he gave her a serious look as he reminded her,

"I did not _ask_ you to dinner. I instructed you on a place and time to be. There's a difference. And, no, it isn't why we're having dinner together. Do you want to serve me or not, Bellatrix?"

She ignored the way roasted goat and potatoes had appeared on her plate, and she insisted,

"I do want to serve you, Master. More than anything anyone's ever wanted."

"So eager." Voldemort smiled a little as he dragged the pad of his middle finger around the rim of his wine glass. "You have always been lovely in your eagerness, Bella."

That made her breath catch. She finally managed to whisper, "How may I serve you, My Lord?"

"Do you remember… I told you what your first work for me was," Voldemort said, cutting a bite of roasted goat. He chewed it and sipped from his wine, and Bellatrix nodded.

"You said that I killed Muggles for you, to instill fear in the Ministry."

"Well, it's time for a little more fear." Voldemort put a roast potato in his mouth, swallowed it, and said, "There's a Mudblood called Barney Plattley. He has a Muggle wife and an adult son, a Squib. They live in Lancashire. I want you to take the trio out and cast my Mark in the sky."

Bellatrix smiled as her main course disappeared and was replaced by a honey and pine nut tart. She grinned at Voldemort and asked him,

"When will I kill them, Master?"

"Next week," he said. "Do you suppose you can do it?"

"Of course I can!" she cried indignantly. Voldemort smirked and ate a bite of his tart.

"Of course you can," he said quietly. Bellatrix scarfed down three bites of tart inelegantly and made a noise of immense satisfaction at the taste of the dessert. Voldemort seemed to be watching her quite closely, and he asked,

"You like the tart, do you?"

"Mmm-hmm," Bellatrix nodded. Voldemort gave her a knowing look and informed her,

"It was served at a party once and you were practically moaning over it. After that, I had it for you whenever I could."

Bellatrix froze. She swallowed the bite in her mouth and washed it down with a swig of white wine. She set the glass down and said firmly,

"I will kill the Mudblood and his useless family for you. I would kill a hundred thousand Muggles for you. I would burn every forest, flatten every town. I will cast your Mark in the sky over and over. I will never stop until it's all yours, until they've all prostrated themselves to you."

Voldemort nodded and sipped slowly from his wine. "My eager little creature."

 _His_ eager little creature. Bellatrix blinked. He seemed unaffected as he set his wine down and told her,

"We had dinner in this room dozens of times. Just you and I. And I always let you choose the menu."

"Did I choose beetroot, roasted goat, and honey tart?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort dragged his finger over the rim of his glass again.

"Sometimes," he said, his voice far more gentle than anything she'd heard from him. He breathed slowly through the slits on his face and then said, "Sometimes you chose fennel salad and seared scallops. One time, I told you I didn't feel much like seafood, so you requested my own favourite. Pork shoulder. But we always, always had the honey and pine nut tart. It was… tasting it again is rather nostalgic, I'll admit."

He finished his glass of wine and pushed it away.

"I missed you," he said plainly, and Bellatrix felt her lips part. She wasn't sure what to say to that. Before she could speak, he told her, "You can't have missed me, because you hardly knew me before you fell asleep. And the me you knew was different, I know. But I missed you, Bellatrix. Sometimes, I'd be floating along without a body, wandering for a year in a forest without ever hearing a real voice, and the only thing tethering me to a shred of human existence was the memory of you."

Bellatrix pushed her chair back and rose, walking slowly around the table. She approached Voldemort and stood beside his chair. He stared at his empty plate, and she examined the veins of his pale grey, bald head. Her fingers trembled terribly as she reached out and curled her fingers around his shoulder. She stroked him a little there and watched him shut his eyes, and she whispered,

"Thank you for dinner, Master."

He said nothing. She dragged her knuckles up his neck and back down again, all the way over his shoulder and down his arm. She covered his hand with hers on the table and turned her face up to his. He was so close, his lips pale and trembling, looking like she'd cracked him a bit. He smelled like the ocean, sharp and fresh and cold, but his eyes burned like fire. Bellatrix moved a little closer to him and dared to whisper,

"I want you to possess me the way you did in your memories."

He looked shocked then, but Bellatrix nodded and repeated,

"Possess me again, Master. Just like you remember doing."

He blinked and murmured, "Let's go upstairs, Miss Black."

* * *

Everything was faster tonight.

The way he'd practically ripped Bellatrix's gown off of her, the way he'd torn her knickers off in a way that had tripped her… the way he'd shoved Bellatrix roughly onto the bed and then positioned himself above her, crushing her mouth with his and not caring all of a sudden what either of them looked like.

She tasted like honey tart and wine, and Voldemort found himself groaning into her mouth as his cock flushed hard beneath his robes. He snatched one tiny, fragile wrist in his enormous hand, then the other, and he slammed them up above her head. Bellatrix moaned loudly against his cool lips, and he shoved his tongue against hers in response.

"Bella." He wrenched his mouth away and ground his hips hard onto hers. Her eyes were blazing black as she stared up at him, and he demanded, "Do you feel how hard you make me? Hmm? Even at this age, with this new form, you make me this hard. _Feel it._ "

"I… I feel it." Bellatrix tipped her head back and arched up her back a little. Her breasts looked so inviting then that Voldemort couldn't help himself, not even a little bit. He dove down and sucked a breast into his mouth, taking as much of it as he could. She cried out, whether in pain or pleasure, it was not clear. He suckled hard on her nipple, drawing it between his teeth and listening to her shriek. She squirmed beneath his hands, so he pinned her hip down with his free hand and sucked harder than ever.

"You _will_ come for me tonight," he informed her then, letting her hands and hip go. He climbed up onto the bed and shoved her roughly against the pillows. Bellatrix gasped as he wrenched her thighs apart and put his fingers to her womanhood. He immediately twisted two, and then three, fingers inside of her. Bellatrix's face was starting to shine and she was utterly breathless as she clutched at the sheets. Voldemort pumped his fingers and used his thumb on her, drawing deep circles that made her grind her hips against his hand. Soon enough, her cries of pain shifted into low moans of pleasure.

Voldemort didn't care then that his voice was entirely too kind as he put his lips beside her ear, moved his fingers on her, and whispered,

"Beautiful little creature. Hmm."

He kissed her cheek and listened to her frantic breath beside his deformed face as he kept up the motion with his hand. He remembered what she liked. He remembered the way she liked when he hooked his fingers just a little and pushed hard on her clit with his thumb. He flicked it a few times, and that was it. She lost herself, tumbling over the invisible cliff with a gasp. Her cheek grew hot beneath Voldemort's as her walls clenched around his fingers. He groaned quietly and moved his mouth to hers, kissing her through her bliss and soaking in the feel of her climax. Before she could recover, and without taking his mouth from hers, Voldemort reached down and unbuttoned his linen trousers beneath his robes. He pulled his cock out and pressed it against Bellatrix's entrance.

He thought about flipping her over and taking her roughly from behind, but he didn't want to stop kissing her. He thought about making her ride him, but he wanted to be atop her. So he stuck with the dull, predictable position, which felt remarkably satisfying tonight, and he slid inside of her. Bellatrix reached up then, holding his cheeks in her hands and letting out a delicious little sound.

 _In and out, in and out._ Their breath synchronised along with his long, smooth strokes. He pumped himself deeply into her, savoured it for a moment, enjoying the tight warmth, and then pulled back out. _In and out, in and out._ She stroked at his cold cheeks, at his grey skin, and she did not seem remotely repulsed. She didn't seem troubled by the way the slits of his flat nose were so near her face, nor the way his eyes were red when he finally pulled back for air.

"I missed you," he whispered, knowing he'd already told her that at dinner. He kept pumping his hips, enjoying the feel of her hands on his cheeks. Bellatrix nodded up at him and whispered,

"Let's start over, Master. From the beginning of what… what happened between us. All right?"

"Hmm." Voldemort bent to kiss her again then, burrowing deeply inside of her as his own easy climax washed over him. He shut his eyes and stilled his lips and tongue as his come filled her. He had a moment of panic as he hissed, "Tell me you cast a contraceptive charm on yourself."

"I did, My Lord," Bellatrix affirmed. "Before dinner. Just in case."

"Clever little creature." Voldemort let himself slip out of her, his head still throbbing with satisfaction as he rolled onto his back beside her. He wordlessly tucked his softened cock away, and as he buttoned himself up, Bellatrix seemed to instinctively move closer to him. He didn't complain when she put her head carefully onto his chest. He just played with her hair and whispered,

"Starting from the beginning, eh? Yes. You'll take out that Mudblood for me, and his worthless wife and son. You'll be my soldier again, and I'll have you here in my bed. Just like…"

"Just like before," Bellatrix said, smiling up at him a little. But he now felt compelled to be truthful about certain things. He pulled her leg across him, not minding the way that his seed was leaking out between her thighs.

"I lied to you back then. Often. I told you the same lie over and over."

Bellatrix frowned in confusion but said nothing. He gulped, trying to work past the knot in his throat, and he confessed,

"I told you… countless times… that I had many witches. I didn't want you to feel special. So I would tell you about a lanky blonde who had slept on the pillow beside me, or a redhead I'd had dinner with. I taunted you with them, with the spectres of other witches. I wanted you desperate, and I wanted you close, but I didn't want you to feel special."

Bellatrix looked like she was on the verge of tears. She moved to lie on her side and bravely cupped Voldemort's jagged jaw in her hand.

"And how many were there, really?" she asked. "How many blondes and redheads? How many others did you really have, Master?"

"None." Voldemort shook his head and told her, "Before your nineteenth birthday, I hadn't taken a witch in twenty years. Now it's been twenty years again. Those years with you… they were anomalous in my life, you see, and… and there was never anyone else. I told you here that we were monogamous, you and I, and as far as I knew, we were. But I lied to you back then and told you otherwise, because I needed to control you without you feeling…"

"Special," Bellatrix finished for him. She brushed her knuckles along his cheek, and Voldemort shivered. He said something then that he never would have said in his old life.

"But you _were_ special. You still are."

"Oh." Bellatrix did cry then, a tear worming its way from her eye and dribbling down the bridge of her nose. Voldemort used his thumb to take it away, and he assured her,

"I do want to start over with you, Bella. But this time… I do not intend on making you cry on purpose. I see no use in that anymore. Not now that you and I are both detached from the realities we knew. Not during this war. Not now that this… I know this is likely my last chance, so I mean to take hold of it."

He didn't tell her about his Horcruxes, about how he feared them getting destroyed. He didn't tell her that he was actively blocking out Harry Potter, that he had some doubts about Severus Snape's loyalty. He'd already told her that he'd spent years thinking he'd never have a body again, that he had remembered her every time he needed to remind himself of his humanity. So now he just stared at her and informed her,

"You were always special, whether I allowed you to know it or not."

Bellatrix blinked through her tears and stroked at his face again. She was so near his red eyes, his grey lips, the slits of his nose. She did not seem to mind at all. She stared right at him and whispered,

"I don't need to be special, My Lord. Any attention at all from you is more than enough."

"I knew that, and I took advantage of that," he said, "but it didn't win me the last war, and it won't win me this one. No one else will sleep beside me or eat dinners alone with me. No one else did, and no one else will. Make of that information whatever you will. Let's go to sleep."

Bellatrix nodded and shut her eyes, and Voldemort settled back against his own pillow. With her beside him, warm and smelling wonderful, he quickly drifted off to sleep. He might have let his mental guard down for a moment or two, for he felt another mind in his at one point, thinking about Bellatrix being beside him. Was it Potter? Voldemort reinforced his Occlumency shields and went back to sleep.

But after a few hours, he woke again, having dreamed vividly about Bellatrix dying in battle. He woke with a soft gasp, scowling as he looked at Bellatrix sleeping peacefully beside him. Nagini was curled up at Bellatrix's feet now, and she raised her head and hissed,

" _You worry over her._ "

Voldemort kept the scowl on his face and quietly hissed back, " _I am not anxious to lose her again. That's all._ "

" _I do not want to lose her, either._ " Nagini slithered up along Bellatrix's back and told him, " _I feel her in every bone of mine. I feel her in my blood. She warms me. She calms me. I do not want her to go away._ "

" _I mean to keep her,_ " Voldemort assured Nagini. The snake curled around Bellatrix's shoulder, and Voldemort almost hissed at her to stop, that she'd wake Bellatrix. But Bellatrix hummed softly in her sleep, as though she were comforted. Nagini raised her face to Voldemort and spoke in Parseltongue,

" _I quite like her._ "

" _So do I,_ " Voldemort answered simply, lying back down and shutting his eyes, ensuring his Occlumency was shielding his mind from the Potter boy before he fell back asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

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Bellatrix blinked her eyes open, expecting to see Nagini and her master beside her. After all, she'd fallen asleep curled up with them. But she didn't see them; instead, she saw the familiar blue wallpaper of her bedroom at her parents' house.

"What?" Bellatrix whispered. She sat up quickly and dashed over to the window, which was opened to let in fresh air. It was a warm morning, and the lawn outside was vibrantly green.

It felt like lates summer. Somehow, Bellatrix was very sure, it was late in the summer of 1970. She'd come back in time again.

She rushed to dress in a flowing black skirt and a wispy black blouse, binding her small waist with a wide belt. She scrubbed her teeth and Scoured her body clean, and she ran down the stairs.

"Bella?" her mother called from the sitting-room. "Care for breakfast?"

"No, Mum; I have to go." Bellatrix Disapparated from the foyer with a loud _crack_ , coming to outside the front door of Malfoy Manor. She lifted the heavy knocker and slammed it three times, and she drummed her foot on the top step as she waited for the door to open. When it did, the little House-Elf Dobby was there, and he asked meekly,

"May I help you, Miss?"

"Dobby," Bellatrix said impatiently, "Tell me what day it is."

"Why, it is the first of September, Miss," Dobby said. "The first of September in the year nineteen seventy."

"So I thought." Bellatrix shut her eyes and gulped, whispering a plea that her master would know her. "Dobby, is the Dark Lord here?"

"He is in his office, Miss," Dobby said. "I can take you there, and you may try to see him, but he did seem in rather a… difficult mood, Miss."

Bellatrix's stomach twisted as she followed Dobby inside. Was Voldemort in a poor mood because he had woken up here like she had? Perhaps he'd fallen asleep with her in Malfoy Manor and woken up without her, and that was why he was in a 'difficult mood.'

They reached Voldemort's office, and Bellatrix shooed Dobby away. She cleared her throat and her mind and raised her hand, rapping her knuckles on the door.

"Enter," snapped the voice from inside. Bellatrix opened the door carefully, and then she froze.

It was the old him… or, rather, the younger him. He was neither young nor handsome. He was in his forties, Bellatrix knew, and his features had already been severely marled by Dark magic. His thin lips were twisted into a snarl, and his nose looked like it had been broken four or five times. One of his lower eyelids drooped a bit, and his eyebrows were sparse and uneven. His hair was almost entirely grey and quite thin, and his face was sallow and sagging. But he wasn't the grey monster Bellatrix had encountered in the 1990s.

He wouldn't know, she realised. He wouldn't know that they had started over, the two of them. This was the man who had lied to her, told her there were other witches just to keep her from getting too close. She shut the door behind her as he asked,

"What do you need, Miss Black?"

His voice was so harsh, so cold and unfeeling, and Bellatrix's eyes welled at once. Hadn't she kissed him and fallen asleep naked with him the night before? She tried to think of a good reason to be here, and she decided that the truth was as good a reason as any other. She pointed to a chair opposite him and asked,

"May I sit, Master?"

He cocked up an eyebrow. "Mmm-hmm."

Bellatrix sat, and she sighed as she told him, "I think, My Lord, that this will be a very difficult thing to explain. I wonder if you might just look into my mind."

Voldemort frowned deeply and narrowed his eyes, studying Bellatrix's face. Then he aimed his pale wand at her and murmured,

" _Legilimens._ "

* * *

"You haven't seen her at all?" Voldemort tried to keep his voice steady. Narcissa looked terrified where she stood beside Lucius in his office.

"N-No, My Lord," Narcissa insisted. "The last I saw of her, she was duelling Rodolphus Lestrange in the gardens."

"That was _days_ ago," Voldemort seethed. He snapped his eyes to Lucius. "You. Have you seen her?"

"No, Master. I have not." Lucius looked very frightened, and Voldemort snarled like an animal. He slashed his wand through the air, sending books tumbling off of the shelves onto the floor. Narcissa startled, and Voldemort growled,

"Find her. Get every boot on the ground for this. Find Bellatrix."

"Yes, Master." Lucius bowed his head, and Narcissa followed him quickly from the office. Once the door was shut. Voldemort slashed his wand again, this time ripping a whole bookshelf down and sending it clattering to the floor.

" _Go to her, Master,_ " hissed Nagini from the floor beside him, and Voldemort scowled down at the snake.

" _How am I meant to do that?"_ he demanded in Parseltongue. " _I have no idea how to conduct that sort of time travel._ "

" _You remember the mantle clock from Borgin and Burkes,"_ Nagini hissed. " _It never sold because no one was willing to try it."_

" _It was a hoax,"_ Voldemort insisted, curling up his lip. " _No mantle clock could…"_

He stopped then, realising the implications of what it would mean if he were actually able to get his hands on the object, if it actually worked. When he'd been young and had worked at Borgin and Burkes, there had been a mantle clock that had already been on the shelves for thirty years. Reputedly, it had been used to travel hundreds of years backward and forward, but the user had so radically altered reality that he'd been sentenced to life in Azkaban. The clock was being sold with the caveat that its rumoured time travel abilities couldn't be proven and that long-distance time travel was both dangerous and illegal.

But if he could get back to 1970, he could accomplish two important things. He could stop himself from making the same mistakes that had led to his first downfall - the times Dumbledore had outsmarted him, the way he'd interpreted and acted on the prophecy - and he could rise to power without ever vanishing into the wisp he'd been for years.

And he could be with Bellatrix, whom he seriously suspected had awakened back in her parents' home. When he'd found the spot beside him in bed empty, he'd known. She'd gone back to her time, and he could chase her there. He could be successful there. He could be with her there. If only the mantle clock's powers were real, it could all be his.

He practically tore the sheet of parchment that he whipped out, and he quickly dipped a quill in ink before he wrote,

_Dear Mr Borgin,_

_I am in search of a particular artefact that was in your shop's inventory decades ago. I wonder if you still have it…_

* * *

"Bella? Bellatrix." Druella Black's voice was worried as she walked into Bellatrix's bedroom. "You have to come out sometime."

"No, I don't." Bellatrix stared out the window at a leaf that was about to rip from its twig. She watched it detach and flutter down to the ground as her mother noted,

"It's been eighteen days of this, Bellatrix. You've scarcely eaten anything. You're as sombre as if someone had died. Should I send for a Healer, Bella?"

"No." Bellatrix pressed her hand to the glass and shut her eyes. When she'd explained everything to Lord Voldemort, he had insisted (as his older self would do) that knowing too much about time travel was dangerous and inadvisable. He'd sent her to her parents' house and told her not to contact him. In fact, though, no one had seen or heard from Lord Voldemort in two weeks. Bellatrix was panicking now, wondering if something awful had happened to him because she'd come back.

She gasped, for there was a bright pain on her left arm. She wrenched her sleeve back to see that her Dark Mark had flushed black, and she laughed a little.

"I have to go, Mummy!" she exclaimed, stepping into the centre of her bedroom. Druella look perplexed, but before she could say anything, Bellatrix Disapparated. She came to in the gardens of Malfoy Manor, and there were pops all around her as other Death Eaters appeared. Suddenly Bellatrix caught sight of Rodolphus Lestrange, looking just as young as she did. He didn't spare her a glance. He didn't know yet that he would be matched with Bellatrix, that the two of them would spend over a decade in Azkaban.

Suddenly Bellatrix froze and looked around. They didn't know. None of them knew. None of them were aware that in just over a decade, their master would be taken down by a rebounded Killing Curse, that he would vanish and most of these people would turn on him. None of them knew what was coming. Should she warn them all? Should she stand here and scream at the top of her lungs about it? No, Bellatrix knew. That was for the Dark Lord to decide.

She walked with the crowd inside, going mostly ignored by the others. She was young, fresh out of Hogwarts, and they were almost all wizards, anyway. She was just a little girl to them. Bellatrix remembered how Voldemort had told her that she'd become a ferocious interrogator, a killer, and as she looked around, she wondered if any of the others knew what she would be capable of doing.

She followed the group into the meeting-room and took a seat beside Abraxas Malfoy, who had apparently died of dragon pox in the early 1990s. He hadn't been there in 1996, when Lucius and Narcissa had been in charge of this manor. Bellatrix flashed him a tiny smile and then anxiously rolled her crooked wand back and forth on the table. Finally a hush came over the room, for the double doors at the end had opened.

"Master!" Bellatrix flew to her feet when she saw him. His grey face, the slits where his nose ought to have been, his scarlet eyes and his bald head. The others might have thought she was horrified, but she grinned at him, and he smirked just a little as he seemed to realise they both knew the same things. He had come here, too. When? Bellatrix slowly sat back down and shook with excitement, receiving just as many confused stares as Voldemort himself did.

He calmly pulled out a chair, sat down, and folded his hands on the table.

"I have been gone from you for two weeks. It was longer than intended. My apologies for those who tried to reach me. Now. Let us dispense with the elephant in the room, which is, of course, my appearance."

A ripple of anxiety worked its way around the table. Voldemort waited for everything to go still and quiet again, and then he said in a low, menacing tone,

"I have performed Dark magic the likes of which none of you can imagine. This face, and this skin, and these bones and these eyes… this is the price for such Darkness. But my power is more fierce than ever. Is there anyone present who objects to my new looks? Anyone would abandon my because of the colour of my eyes or the shape of my nose? Hm? Anyone?"

Not one hand went up.

"Good," Voldemort nodded. "Good. Loyalty is a good thing. Nott and Avery… did you speak with Florean Fortescue?"  
"We did, Master," Avery said nervously. "He says that Dumbledore was there with Gideon Prewett just before the start of the Hogwarts term, but he didn't overhear what they were discussing."

"A pity, but not anything that you could have helped." Voldemort sighed, taking his time surveying the table. He was getting to know everyone again, Bellatrix thought. He was establishing for them and for himself that he belonged here. His eyes settled on Bellatrix for a moment, and he finally said to her, "Bella, come to my office when we're through here."

"Yes, Master," she whispered. Voldemort cracked his neck a little. Bellatrix looked around for Nagini, but did not see her. She wondered if the snake had been left behind in 1996. That seemed a bit sad, for some reason. She tuned out as Voldemort discussed more espionage at the Ministry with Rookwood. Finally she heard him say,

"I shall require a few days' peace and quiet. My work has been enormously taxing. Contact me if there is an emergency. Dismissed."

Bellatrix watched as Abraxas Malfoy approached Voldemort, and his red eyes followed her as she left the meeting-room. She quickly made her way down the corridor to his office, waiting anxiously outside the door. When at last he approached her, it took everything she had not to run right at him. Instead, she waited whilst he silently unwarded the office, let her in, and then shut and locked the door behind them.

"Come sit." He moved to an armchair before the dark fireplace, and Bellatrix shook as she sat opposite him.

"You've come," she breathed. "You came back. How?"

He raised his eyes to the mantle, where Bellatrix saw a strange-looking clock. It had three faces - one that seemed to read hours and minutes, and another that had a circle of 365 days. The third face had years on it. Bellatrix realised it was some sort of time travel device.

"I first saw it a very long time ago in Borgin and Burkes," Voldemort informed her. "No one believed it would work, so no one bought it. And, anyway, time travel over great distances is very dangerous and very -"

"Illegal," Bellatrix finished for him. He nodded. She looked around again and asked,

"Nagini?"

"I couldn't figure how to bring her with me," Voldemort admitted. "I needed to get to you. I came close… nearly three weeks, it would seem, since the last time you met with me in this era? I left myself a note… a note on the desk. I found it when I got here. My younger self, it would seem, has used some sort of means to stay out of the way. I didn't explain it to myself, which is probably for th best. Somehow, I knew myself well enough to know I'd come back, that I'd chase you. I just don't know how long I'll be able to stay. Playing with time like this… it's inadvisable at best and can be catastrophic at worst. Know that I may disappear at any time."

"No." Bellatrix shook her head wildly. "No, Master. You'll do things differently this time. You won't let that awful little Potter boy strike you down. You'll defeat them all. You will _win_ , because now you have information. Now you know everything you need to know to reign over Britain as the greatest wizard who has ever lived."

She was trembling ferociously after that, and Voldemort reached for her hands. She was surprised by the gentleness in his scarlet eyes as he squeezed her fingers a little and nodded.

"I'm going to try," he said. "I mean to do better this time. In every respect. I mean to win battles I lost, to eliminate enemies I let slip through my fingers. I mean to take out James and Lily Potter whilst they're still school children, so they can never have their little monster, Harry. And I mean not to lie to you. I mean to make it very clear to you… here, in this time… that it is only you."

Bellatrix was breathless then. She looked down at her hands, at the way his fingers were carefully rubbing hers. She shut her eyes for a moment and whispered,

"I just want to fight for you."

"And you will," he assured her. "You'll be a marvelous soldier for me. And when you fall asleep with your belly full of honey tart, with my fingers tangled in your curls, you will know… you will know that it is only you."

She remembered then what he'd said, that the memory of her had kept him tethered to his humanity during his years without a body. Had she meant that much to him? She raised her eyes and saw a level of emotion from him she would never have expected.

"Thank goodness," he whispered, "for second chances."

Bellatrix just nodded. She couldn't do much of anything else. Finally Voldemort released her hands, sat up in his chair, and curled up half his mouth.

"Your birthday party is in three days' time," he reminded her. "I expect you to get remarkably drunk."


	6. Chapter 6

"Bellatrix. I'm very concerned by how much you're drinking and how little you're socialising." Irma Black snapped her hands onto her narrow hips where she stood before Bellatrix. "You've had four of those things."

"Five, Gran," Bellatrix corrected, sipping off the last of her Lavender Slip-Up. She still hadn't seen Lord Voldemort. "I've no… erm… interest, you know, in the people here. Mum and Dad put the whole thing together."

"And you are profoundly ungrateful," Irma hissed. She looked around and demanded, "Weren't any of these young people your school friends?"

"I didn't really… didn't have _friends_ ," Bellatrix told her grandmother. "Nobody much liked me."

She put her empty glass on a tray carried by a passing House-Elf, and Irma scoffed.

"I wonder why nobody liked you, if you were as unbearably sour as this. Well. Happy birthday, Bellatrix. Drunk and alone as you are."

"Who says she's alone?" asked a smooth voice. Bellatrix looked up with dizzy, drunk eyes to see Lord Voldemort standing before her, holding out another Lavender Slip-Up. "Brought you a drink."

"With all due respect, sir, I think she's had more than enough," Irma Black hissed, but Voldemort shot her a lethal look and said quietly,

"I think she's old enough to decide for herself, Madam. How's your husband?"

Irma's cheeks went pink as Bellatrix gratefully accepted the drink from Voldemort's outstretched hand.

"Pollux is… he said for me to tell you he'll contribute whatever funds and time you require, sir." Irma studied Voldemort's grey, misshapen form, and she looked at her granddaughter for a brief moment.

"I'm glad to hear that. Enjoy the party, Madam Black." Voldemort sipped at his own drink, and it was obvious that he'd had more than a few. Irma Black huffed and nodded, walking quickly away.

"Thank you for rescuing me from her, Master," Bellatrix drawled. She sipped the lavender lemonade and gin, and Voldemort asked,

"How many is that?"

"Five," she replied. "N-no. Wait. Six."

He made an amused little sound, and when he finished his own drink, he put it on the tray of a passing elf. He reached into the pocket of his robes then and pulled something out.

"Sorry I didn't box it up," he said. "I'd love to have an excuse other than 'I couldn't be bothered.' In any case… Happy birthday, Bella."

"A gift?" she breathed, feeling dizzy from the drink and astonishment as she took the golden chain and pendant. It looked like a locket, but when she opened the ornately carved lid, it revealed a traditional clock face. Bellatrix put the long chain round her neck and grinned. "Thank you, Master!"

"Mr Borgin says it came into his shop ten years ago, sold to him by a vampire who claimed it had once belonged to Carmilla Sanguina. There's no way to prove that, of course. I just thought it was rather pretty, and… well, you know… the clock theme felt rather appropriate."

Bellatrix held the pendant in her hand and opened the lid again. She stared with bleary eyes at the hands and Roman numerals, and she asked carefully,

"Master… the first time round… did you give me a gift?" She raised her gaze to him, and he tightened his pale lips.

"No," he said. "I never gave you gifts. I thought it would make you clingy, make you believe certain things about… about what was happening."

Bellatrix's eyes seared like fire, and she pushed the lid of the watch pendant shut with her thumb.

"Why didn't you stay there?" she whispered, not wanting anyone else on the lawn to hear them. Voldemort said nothing, and he shifted a little where he stood as though he were nervous. Bellatrix pressed, "Why didn't you just declare me missing and stay there, in that time?"

"That did not feel like an option," he replied crisply. "You're drunk, or you wouldn't push me on this."

"You're right. I am drunk," she said, "and it is my birthday, and I would like to change my dress."

His scarlet eyes flashed a little, and he jerked his head toward the house. "Shall we go inside, then, Miss Black?"

"Yes, My Lord," she replied firmly. "We shall."

* * *

The last time they'd been physical together, everything had been fast and aggressive. The first time, he hadn't even cared whether she'd felt pleasure.

It was very different this time.

They were both steeped in liquor, heads swimming and words coming mumbled and slurred. His breath was uneven against her mouth as he pushed her gently toward her childhood bed. Bellatrix stood beside it and felt his long fingers pull down the zip of the black silk dress. He was wordless as he peeled it forward off her shoulders. Bellatrix stepped out of it once it fell to her ankles, and then she let him unclasp her bra and push down her knickers. Soon enough, she was naked except for the clock pendant he'd bought her. She started to unclasp his robes, but he quickly covered her hands with his and shook his head.

"No," he said firmly. Bellatrix frowned, but he said almost soothingly, "Some other time. I am not yet prepared for that."

"Oh." Bellatrix was too drunk to say anything else. "All right, My Lord."

"Come sit with me over here." He moved to her wide, dark brown leather chair beside her bookshelf, and when he sat, he pulled her down. She squealed with delight at the feel of him beneath her, at the way she was eye-to-eye with him. She put a knee on either side of his hips and ground down against the erection forming beneath her. Voldemort's hand pawed rather roughly at her breast, and she collapsed forward against him.

He kissed her neck, which shocked her. His lips and tongue started massaging her there, and Bellatrix gasped with want and satisfaction. She reached between them and unbuttoned as swiftly as she could. She felt the jab of his wand against her belly, and then warmth spreading there as he murmured a contraceptive incantation against the skin of her neck. Bellatrix hummed and impulsively kissed his cool, bald scalp. She used her hands to pull him from his linen trousers, and she felt the room spin.

"Why did you chase me back here?" she asked again. "Why didn't you just stay in that time?"

"Because I _wanted_ you, Bellatrix," he growled, and she yelped as he nibbled harder at the sensitive skin of her neck. He pulled back and stared right at her as he guided her body up atop his cock. As she sank down, she threw her head back and seethed through clenched teeth. She began to rock on instinct, far more enthusiastically than she normally would have dreamed of doing. Up and down, back and forth she moved, his hands sliding up from her bare hips to her stomach, up to her breasts. He squeezed hard there, so hard that it hurt, but it felt beyond delicious.

"I came here," Voldemort wheezed, sounding a bit out of control of himself, "because somehow it seemed more palatable to Vanish into the ether trying to chase you… than staying there alone."

"But you've been alone for… so long…" Bellatrix protested, threading her arms around Voldemort's bony shoulders as she felt everything tightening inside of her.

"Are you calling me old, Bella?" Voldemort snarled, and she was taken aback by the playfulness in his low voice. His hands pressed to her bare back, and she mumbled,

"I'm going to come. Oh. I'm going to… mmph."

"Yes," she heard him whisper. She stilled her hips and burrowed her face into the crook of his neck. She breathed in and smelled the ocean on him, wind whipping over salt air. She breathed him in as she came, her hands frantically clutching at the robes he hadn't allowed her to remove. She felt herself clenching around him, her veins going hot and her breath shaking. She was very aware then that Voldemort was finishing inside of her, for she felt his seed leaking back out of her as he huffed beside her face. She pulled back a little and kissed him, feeling so much more brazen with him than she'd ever done.

He was so old, a back corner of her mind thought. She was young, and he was _old_. But this body of his seemed, if nothing else, almost ageless, barely human. He tasted cold; he smelled like ocean air. But when she pulled back from him, staring into his crimson eyes, she realised she was utterly in awe of him. She worshipped him. She adored him.

"You came back to me," she whispered, and she dared to put her hands on either side of his face. He lowered his gaze from her, reaching between them to tuck his flaccid cock away. He mumbled a few spells to clean Bellatrix up, and he insisted,

"Your grandmother was right; you've been entirely antisocial for the entire party. You're not too drunk to do… _this_ … so surely you can thank your guests for coming."

She giggled then at his unintended innuendo. When he smirked at her, shaking his head, she kissed his cool cheek and joked,

"Thank you for coming, Master."

"Get dressed, Bella," he ordered her, and his voice was so very nearly warm that Bellatrix obeyed him without hesitation. She needed assistance, stumbling with intoxication as she was, and he helped her wriggle back into her knickers and dress. He took her by the hand and led her out of her bedroom and down the stairs, and before they went outside, he released her hand and paused for a moment.

"You came back to me, My Lord," she said again, her words a blur. Voldemort nodded, his face serious, and he told her,

"I had no choice whatsoever in the matter, Bella. Not that I could see. Now go outside and thank your guests for attending your party."

She wrapped her fingers around her clock pendant and nodded. "Yes, Master."

* * *

"I need to be certain I can make payments as rewards," Voldemort was saying to Cygnus Black III, who nodded vigorously and affirmed,

"Yes, My Lord. Your coffers are full. Of course, all of your accounts at Gringotts are being held under my name, so that they can be easily accessed without you having to enter the bank."

"Yes," Voldemort said, "and you do understand, don't you, the consequences of betraying me when it comes to finances?"

Cygnus gulped and nodded. He'd been at school with Voldemort, but he'd been too young to be a meaningful part of Voldemort's gang. It hadn't been until years later, when he'd gone to the Continent and then returned, that Cygnus Black had been allowed into the inner circle.

"Now it's _you_ who doesn't know _me._ That's rich."

Voldemort snapped his head to the side at the sound of Bellatrix's loud voice.

"Pardon me, Master, but it seems my eldest daughter is being a bit of a… well." Cygnus stormed over toward Bellatrix, who was shouting at a very befuddled-looking Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Miss Black," Rodolphus said carefully, "I think perhaps that you -"

" _Miss Black_ ," Bellatrix repeated, her voice taunting. "You try to turn me into a duck in a duel, tell me all about us living in a nice, airy townhouse, and now I'm _Miss Black_?"

Rodolphus looked shocked. Druella Black stepped up to Bellatrix and took hold of her wrist.

"Bella, dear. Go inside and get some water," Druella said, but Bellatrix wrenched her wrist away roughly. She staggered backward, and by then Voldemort was standing close to her. He took a half step and caught her in his arm, and when she tried to whirl around, he steadied her shoulders.

"Bella," he said, so quietly that he was sure no one else could hear, "You're saying dangerous things. Come with me."

"Yes, Master," she whispered, and he realised then that not all of her drinks had settled into her veins when he'd taken her up to her room. She was fully drunk now, with all the alcohol she'd consumed sweeping through her system. Voldemort stared straight into her glassy eyes and murmured,

"Apologise to Rodolphus."

"I'm sorry, Rodolphus," Bellatrix mumbled at once. Voldemort looked up and found Cygnus' eyes. The other wizard seemed very confused when Voldemort informed him,

"I'll take her for the night. Thank you for the party, Cygnus."

"M-My Lord?" Cygnus' voice was meek as Voldemort turned away with Bellatrix. He led her by her hand to a quiet spot near a tree, and he shook his head as he said,

"It was very foolish of me to encourage you to drink. You know too many things now for that sort of intoxication. I apologise for egging you on. Let's go. Malfoy Manor."

He Disapparated without another word, and when they arrived at Malfoy Manor, he decided she was entirely too drunk to walk on her own. He Lightened her, though she weighed hardly anything at all, and he scooped her wordlessly into her arms.

"I made a fool of myself," Bellatrix mumbled as Voldemort walked briskly up the main stairs of the manor. He said nothing, and she moaned and dug her fists in to her eyes. "I embarrassed myself. Poor Rodolphus."

"He'll be fine," Voldemort snapped. He carried Bellatrix up a winding staircase in the corner of the manor, up two flights until he was breathless and dizzy. He paused at the top of the stairs and informed Bellatrix,

"My suite in this time has only one bedroom. We'll share tonight."

"I'm so sorry," Bellatrix was saying, and Voldemort huffed in frustration as he carried her toward his suite.

"I want an attack on some Muggles from you sooner rather than later," he told her sharply. "Get something planned and carried out. Make me proud."

"Yes, Master," she answered morosely. He wandlessly opened the door to his suite then and carried her inside, and he set her down on the ground in his bedroom.

"Take that dress off," he commanded her, opening his wardrobe.

"Are you going to fuck me again?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort whirled over his shoulder to see her stripping off her party dress. She stumbled stepping out of it, and Voldemort snarled,

"No, I am not going to… Bella. Leave your knickers on. Here. Wear this."

He pulled out a pair of grey flannel trousers and a grey shirt, and he handed them to Bellatrix. Once she'd struggled into them, he brushed his wand in a V shape over the trousers, then the shirt, and he murmured,

" _Diminuendo_ … _Diminuendo_."

His pyjamas, which were far too large for her, shrank considerably until they looked reasonable on her. He started to strip off his own robes, suddenly not caring that she was seeing him bared. He peeled off his outer robe and then his inner tunic. He flicked them up into his wardrobe, and he heard Bellatrix gasp quietly from behind him.

"Yes. I know. You can see all my vertebrae, my spine practically poking out from my silver skin. I know. It's hideous."

"It's not," Bellatrix drawled, and Voldemort rolled his eyes a little. He pulled on a long black sleeping tunic and some knee-length linen underwear, and he shut his wardrobe. He led Bellatrix over to the bed and helped her up, and then she slid over to make room for him. He lay back against the pillows and urged her up against him. It wasn't nearly late enough yet for sleeping, but here they were in bed.

"I ruined it," Bellatrix said quietly from beside him. "I took the birthday party where you and I first -"

"Those memories aren't real anymore," Voldemort reminded her. "The only birthday party that's _real_ is the one that happened today."

"Do you suppose Rodolphus suspects something?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort scoffed.

"He suspected that you were very drunk, which you were." He pulled her onto his lap, arranging her so that she was facing his torso.

"Your cock is right here." Bellatrix dragged her fingers over the crotch of his pyjama trousers, and he laughed softly.

"You're still very drunk," he said, "and I already had you once today. It's your birthday. End it happily. Just go to sleep."

"May I ask you something, Master?" Bellatrix asked. He watched her play with the watch pendant around her neck. "Did you bring this necklace with you through time?"

"No," he said simply. "I bought it two days ago."

"Why?" Bellatrix pressed. Voldemort sighed and laced his fingers through her hair. He rubbed at her scalp, and she breathed a long sigh of happiness at the feel. Then she repeated, "Why, My Lord? Why did you buy it?"

"It didn't feel right coming to your birthday party without a gift," he said, and she looked up at him.

"But you said that you never gave me gifts before."

"That _before_ never happened," he growled, squeezing at her hair a bit. "1996 has not yet happened. All there is is here, Bella. All there is is now. You… you needed a birthday gift, so I bought one. Go to sleep."

"I'm not tired, Master," Bellatrix protested. Suddenly he found himself irritated with her drunken, brazen self, and he snatched his wand from the table beside the bed.

" _Somnolus_ ," he barked, aiming his wand at Bellatrix's head. She was asleep at once, and Voldemort slammed his wand back down as he said in a lethally calm voice, "Happy birthday, Bellatrix."

* * *

Bellatrix stood under a tree on a dismal, rainy street in Havering. It was pouring so hard that she knew she wouldn't be able to set the fires she'd planned. She'd have to do better than that.

 _Don't cast the Dark Mark this time_ , Lord Voldemort had told her. _We aren't ready to confess to what we do._

Bellatrix aimed her wand at the row of houses before her. The Muggles would think this was a gas leak. Magical personnel would know better.

" _Confringo!_ " Bellatrix screamed. A massive Blasting Curse shot from her wand and made one of the rickety brick houses explode. There were immediate screams. Bellatrix hurried down the row of houses, knowing she had only seconds before someone realised it was her making this happen. She peeked out from the thick trunk of the tree and cried again, " _Confringo! Confringo! CONFRINGO!_ "

One after another, the Blasting Curses hit the row of houses. The bangs of the explosions were almost deafening. The screams and the sounds of bricks hitting the road made Bellatrix cackle with glee. She looked around the tree and saw blood, a broken water main spraying straight up into the air, piles of bricks, a toppled chimney.

"Perfect," Bellatrix whispered, and she Disapparated hard to her right. When she came to outside Malfoy Manor, she flung the doors open with her wand and went running inside, past the confused House-Elf and up the main staircase.

"He's not in his office, Miss!" called Dobby from behind her. "The Dark Lord is in the library upstairs!"

"Thanks, Dobby," Bellatrix mumbled, her feet pattering on the staircase as she ran up higher and higher. She was soaking wet, which she only now realised. She sprinted down the corridor toward the library, and when she reached it, she put a hand on either side of the threshold and cried, "Master!"

He turned round from the window, where he stood reading a book. He shut it and set it down, and he smirked a little.

"I take it from your look of unmitigated bliss that you were successful."

"Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix rushed toward him and pressed her hands to the front of his robes. "I blew up their houses. Left them screaming in the streets. I did just as you commanded me. Please, Master… tell me you're proud."

"Oh, yes, Bella," Voldemort said, taking Bellatrix's cheeks in his hands. "I am very proud of you."

Then he kissed her, so hard that Bellatrix squealed, and she let herself get lost beneath his cold hands.


	7. Chapter 7

"Oh. Hello, Mr Bulstrode."

"Miss Black." Daemon Bulstrode rather nervously tightened his hands around the bouquet of white lilies he'd brought with him to the Black house. Bellatrix frowned a bit and told him,

"My father's not at home, I'm afraid. Neither's my mother. Can I take a message for you?"

Daemon Bulstrode cleared his throat and gave a nervous little smile. "I'm actually here to speak with _you_ , Miss Black. Your father knew I was coming."

Bellatrix's stomach flopped. She blinked a few times, wondering why on Earth Lord Voldemort hadn't told her about this. She gulped and forced a little smile, stepping aside so Daemon could enter.

"Do come in," she said, feigning warmth. When they were in the foyer, she barked out, "Dippy! Make tea!"

Then she guided Daemon into her parents' sitting room, and she sat stiffly on a sofa opposite an antique chair where Daemon sat. He thrust out the lilies and said,

"These… these are for you."

"Oh. Thank you." Bellatrix took the flowers and stared at them for a moment. When the House-Elf, Dippy, came in with a tray of tea, Bellatrix shoved the lilies at her and ordered her, "Get these into water."

"Yes, Miss Bellatrix." Dippy waddled away quickly, and Bellatrix poured herself a cup of tea. She swigged at it, burning her throat, and set the cup down.

"How's Violet?" she asked, for Daemon's daughter had been a year ahead of her in school. Daemon gave Bellatrix an awkward sort of expression and then said,

"She's well. She's working in Diagon Alley, at Madam Malkin's. She's happy there. Has her own flat above the shop."

"She always seemed very independent," Bellatrix said. Daemon Bulstrode was a widower, she knew. His wife had died when Violet was young; she'd been a member of the esteemed Greengrass family and had died of some awful hereditary condition that seemed to have thus far spared Violet. Bellatrix stared right at Daemon and asked frankly,

"Are you here to court me, Mr Bulstrode?"

He seemed shocked by how frank she was. He just nodded quickly and said,

"I have had difficulty, since my beloved Belle died, in finding a suitable witch for myself. I realise there is an age difference, but… well, I find you to be very alluring, Bellatrix. I think you are clever and pretty, and I would allow you all manner of freedom."

"Oh, how very generous of you," Bellatrix said, feeling disgusted. She shut her eyes and shook her head a little. "I don't think the Dark Lord wants me married. I'm meant to be a soldier for him."

"I thought most of the Death Eaters were married." Daemon frowned, and Bellatrix huffed out a breath.

"Mr Bulstrode. I'm sure you're a wonderfully kind wizard, but I can't… I simply couldn't…"

"I understand." He set down his own teacup and rose, and Bellatrix flew to her feet. Daemon shook his head and said self-consciously, "I ought to have known better. Your father suggested that you might be amenable to the idea, but -"

"My father doesn't know me very well." Bellatrix felt irritated now, thinking about men discussing her without her permission. She pinched her lips and told Daemon, "I promise you that if I change my mind, I shall write to you."

He smiled a little then and nodded. "That would be wonderful. I hope you have a very pleasant afternoon, Miss Black."

"Dippy!" Bellatrix called, and the House-Elf appeared with a snap of magic. Bellatrix glanced down to the elf and said, "Show Mr Bulstrode out. Nice seeing you, Mr Bulstrode."

* * *

"Enter."

Voldemort scowled up at the office door, which had been the victim of extremely insistent knocking. The door flew open, and Bellatrix came bursting breathlessly inside, practically slamming the door shut behind her. She rushed into the office and stood with her arms crossed over her chest, looking more agitated and angry than Voldemort could recall her being. He raised his bare brows and noted calmly,

"You seem as though something's upset you."

Bellatrix seethed for a moment, then stared at the floor as she snapped, "With all due respect, My Lord, may I ask why it is that you did not see fit to inform me that I would be courted?"

Voldemort blinked. "Courted."

She raised her eyes to him and scowled. "You never told me that Daemon Bulstrode was going to show up to my house clutching a bunch of lilies."

Voldemort felt cold all of a sudden. "That's because I didn't know of any such thing. Daemon Bulstrode? He was a Ravenclaw when I was in school. Doesn't he have a daughter your age?"

"A year older!" Bellatrix shrieked, throwing her hands up. "He had my father's permission to be there! I didn't believe him, but when my father got home, I asked, and… he and my parents met to plan this whole thing! My parents want me to marry him!"

Voldemort shut his eyes and rubbed his knuckles along his forehead. "Well. Daemon Bulstrode probably wants your father's money, and your father wants you to have a reliable, established husband."

Bellatrix looked appalled. "You didn't know about this, Master? It didn't happen… in your memories of this time?"

"No, I don't think so," Voldemort replied. He gulped hard then, feeling abruptly nauseated at the idea of some other wizard handing Bellatrix flowers. He coughed a little and shook his head. "I'll speak with your father. I'll sort it out."

"You won't make me marry him, will you?" Bellatrix's voice shook, and Voldemort flashed her an angry glare.

"No. Of course not."

"Forgive my presumption, Master; it's only that… well, you made me marry Rodolphus the last time you lived these years." She knitted her fingers together before her, and Voldemort dragged his teeth along his lip.

"That was different," he informed her. "I was in over my head with you, and Rodolphus was the way out."

Bellatrix seemed a little confused. "So what about this time? Why isn't Daemon Bulstrode your way out?"

"I don't want a way out," Voldemort said, and he left it at that. Bellatrix was silent for a heavy second, and then she nodded.

"I see."

"I told you I'd sort it, and I will. Sit down. I have something to show you." Voldemort waited for Bellatrix to obey, and then he picked up a folded newspaper. He handed her the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and watched her eyes light up at the headline.

 _MUGGLE CATASTROPHE RAISES FEARS OF DARK MAGIC_.

The front-page story detailed how three Muggles had been killed and eleven injured in a massive event that had monopolised the Muggle news cycle. The disaster had been blamed on a gas leak, but the evidence for such an explanation was spotty at best. Aurors had preliminarily determined that the explosions were consistent with the use of Blasting Curses. They had no way of identifying the responsible party, but disagreements within the Ministry had deepened over the catastrophe. Bellatrix smiled as she handed the newspaper back to Voldemort, and she asked softly,

"Have I made you proud, Master?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I told you you had. You're a good soldier."

"A good soldier." Bellatrix looked emotional all of a sudden. She clutched at the watch pendant around her neck and looked down, and Voldemort tightened his mouth.

"You know what I think of you," he whispered, but she shook her head and insisted,

"No, Master. I have absolutely no idea what you think of me."

For his part, he had absolutely no idea how to verbalise what she was to him. All he could bring himself to say was,

"It feels a little different this time round."

She brushed her thumb over the necklace he'd given her, and he knew she understood. The first time he'd lived these years with her, he'd lied to her and told her he had other witches. He'd married her off when she'd gotten too close. He'd never given her gifts. Things were different now. He was older; he knew things now that he hadn't known then. And he did feel differently toward her now. Her nearness was a comfort, not a distraction. The idea of another wizard courting her made his stomach ache. He huffed out a breath and murmured,

"I have no intention of allowing Daemon Bulstrode to court you. Nor anyone else. In that other time… in those years that have not yet come to pass, you asked me to possess you again. The reality is that… erm… it feels now as though it is not just me possessing you. It feels rather mutual, you understand."

Bellatrix looked at him with round eyes then. Her breath shook through her lips, and then she smiled a little. Voldemort glanced at the mantle clock that had brought him here and noted,

"It's getting late, and I'm famished. Stay for dinner."

Bellatrix smiled quite contentedly then, and she nodded. "Thank you, Master."

* * *

"Cygnus. Thank you for meeting me. And over lunch, no less."

"I usually pack something from home into the bank, My Lord, so this is a nice change," Cygnus Black said. Voldemort looked down at his roast beef carpaccio and salad with bleu cheese, and then he watched as Cygnus Black tucked in. Voldemort took one small bite of beef and a sip of water, and he said primly,

"I am made to understand that Daemon Bulstrode paid a visit to your house two days ago."

Cygnus snapped his face up, washing down his mouthful of meat with a rather ungraceful gulp of water.

"Erm… yes, My Lord. He and I spoke, and eventually included Druella in the conversation, and -"

"Was Bellatrix included in the conversation?" Voldemort asked rather harshly. Cygnus' lips parted, and he said almost defensively,

"I was following typical Pureblood courtship procedures, My Lord."

"But Bellatrix is not exactly _typical_ , is she?" Voldemort poked at his beef, calmly eating another bite. He took his time chewing and swallowing, and he pointed out, "Bellatrix is a Death Eater. She belongs to me."

Cygnus' cheeks pinked, and he nodded. "Forgive me, Master. Of course, I ought to have asked you first. Is… is there an alternative besides Mr Bulstrode that you prefer?"

"Yes," Voldemort nodded. "No one."

Cygnus looked very confused. "No one?"

"I prefer that she remain unwed," Voldemort said simply. He took two slow bites of lettuce with bleu cheese and sipped at his water. Cygnus had stopped eating now. He set down his fork and knife and insisted,

"Bellatrix is nineteen. She is _very_ eligible. It seems appropriate and, indeed, necessary, that she should marry and begin… you know."

"Procreating?" Voldemort asked airily. He shook his head. "I disagree entirely. Bellatrix is far too valuable to be used as a Pureblood broodmare. Let the lesser witches squeeze out the next generation. Bellatrix is meant for much more than that."

He finished his beef and salad without looking up again. Once his plate was clear, he smirked, knowing what food would appear next. Sure enough, honey and pine nut tarts appeared on small plates, and Voldemort dug a spoon in as he said,

"Your daughter very much enjoys honey tart. I like eating it with her. I enjoy the time I spend with Bella. Particularly the time I spend _alone_ with her."

He put a bite of the tart into his mouth and raised his eyes to see Cygnus Black staring open-mouthed at him. Voldemort nodded, knowing that Cygnus understood full well now. Voldemort had taken Bellatrix away after she'd been drunk at her birthday party. He must look at her a certain way, he thought. Surely her father could perceive the way Voldemort looked at Bellatrix.

"This is Bella's very favourite dessert," Voldemort said, keeping his voice casual. "In fact, we don't really eat any other desserts anymore, she and I. Just this one. And we eat it often. Two nights ago, I managed to talk her into a second slice."

"I apologise, Master, for arranging the meeting between Bellatrix and Daemon Bulstrode. I was unaware of... the circumstances." Cygnus quickly downed the rest of his water, and Voldemort nodded tightly.

"No matter, and no harm done. You know now. Bellatrix is not to be married off."

"I understand," Cygnus said firmly. "I'll leave it be."

"Very good. Finish your lunch and get back to work," Voldemort said, rising from his chair and striding out of the dining room without another word.

* * *

Bellatrix's eyes sprang open, and she gasped as she reached for her wand. She'd heard a distinctive _pop_ that had roused her from sleep, and now she aimed her wand blindly and hissed,

"Who's there?"

"Put your wand down, Bella," came Voldemort's voice. Bellatrix's fingers shook around her wand as he stepped into a stream of moonlight, looking completely white. She put her wand on the table beside her bed, and she whispered,

"Master. I never thought I'd see you here… at this hour."

"I was bored," he informed her. Bellatrix rubbed her eyes and opened the clock pendant round her neck.

"Bored at three in the morning, My Lord?" she teased. She shut the clock, and Voldemort sighed as he came to sit on the edge of Bellatrix's bed.

"I don't have to give you a reason for coming," he said quietly. He didn't look at her then as he informed her, "I had lunch with your father."

"Oh." Bellatrix frowned a little. "He didn't mention it."

"No, I expect not." Voldemort picked a little at the blue brocade coverlet. "Don't worry. You won't have any other wizards chasing after you. I made it quite plain to your father that you were unavailable."

"You told him you wanted me to focus on my service," Bellatrix nodded, but Voldemort shook his head and said,

"I told him that I enjoy eating honey tart with you. He got the message."

"Oh," Bellatrix said again, lacking anything more insightful to say. She cleared her throat a little and whispered, "Thank you."

"You kept all your dolls? I didn't notice the last time I was here." Voldemort raised his eyes in the moonlight to the shelf of porcelain dolls on the wall. Bellatrix laughed softly and insisted,

"I never played with them. Well. I tried, but I always got into trouble."

"How does one get into trouble with a doll?" Voldemort asked, still staring at the shelf. Bellatrix shifted where she was sitting against her pillows.

"Lighting their hair on fire, pretending to drown them in the pond outside. Frightening Andromeda and Cissy by putting decapitated doll corpses in their beds. Things like that."

"What a wretched child you must have been." Voldemort's lips curled up a little, and then he turned his face to Bellatrix and asked seriously, "Would you like to go on holiday with me?"

"Holiday?" Bellatrix felt very confused then. "W-Wouldn't you be recognised, Master?"

"Yes. It's entirely impossible," he confirmed. "Still, a pleasant little fantasy, isn't it? Going on holiday together."

He shut his eyes and breathed air audibly through the slits on his face. He kept his eyes shut as Bellatrix asked him,

"Master, are you quite all right? Have you… have you taken something?"

His eyes flicked open then, and he smirked. "You think I'm drugged."

"You just seem a bit off," Bellatrix admitted. She clutched anxiously at the edge of her blankets. Voldemort took another long breath and told her,

"I came here to fuck you in your parents' house. Their room is just downstairs. I came here to lock your bedroom door and fuck you so hard that your father heard your moans, heard the bed creaking. I thought that would amuse me."

"Oh," Bellatrix said yet again, her cheeks going very hot. Voldemort licked his bottom lip and informed her,

"I'm not going to do that." He stood slowly and began to pace a little. "Rodolphus Lestrange was my exit strategy last time. But this time, when presented with a convenient exit strategy, I felt ill. I do not want an exit strategy. Not this time. I want _you_."

"Well, My Lord," Bellatrix told him, "I am yours to have."

"I do not fear your nearness this time," he told her, still pacing. "I am remarkably unafraid of certain sensations seeping in. And that seems… dangerous."

He stopped then and looked right at Bellatrix with a cold, angry glare. He had his wand in his hand, Bellatrix could see now. Her lips fell open, and she was barely audible as she whispered,

"Are you going to kill me?"

"No," he said at once, tucking his wand away. "I should, probably. That way, I would have all the knowledge and experience I needed to ensure that I won this war and gained power the way I desire. Eliminating the distraction of you would seem wise. But somehow, I know that doing so would break a bit of me, and I do not wish to be broken."

Bellatrix was shocked by that, by those words. She was even more shocked when he approached her, twined his fingers into her hair as he stared down at her, and said,

"I'm going to keep you this time. I apologise for waking you. There will be a meeting tomorrow. Get some rest."

He turned to go then, and Bellatrix nearly asked him to stay. But she knew better than that, so she just whispered,

"Goodbye, Master."

He turned over his shoulder and nodded, and then he Disapparated in complete silence.


	8. Chapter 8

"We are missing one today." Lord Voldemort stalked slowly around the table. There was an empty seat where Winston Shacklebolt usually sat. Voldemort put his hands on the back of the chair and looked at the assembled group.

"Winston Shacklebolt succeeded in killing two Muggles on a street in Edinburgh last night. There was only one problem - he was within sight of an Auror, Alastor Moody."

A ripple of unease and disbelief went around the table. Voldemort flicked his eyes up to Bellatrix and saw that she looked angry. She wouldn't have botched this mission, he knew. She knew it, too.

"Winston Shacklebolt duelled Moody for ten minutes until Auror reinforcements arrived. When it was clear he was going to be captured and taken into Ministry custody, Shacklebolt dosed himself with the poison he carried, committing suicide rather than getting interrogated. Have I got the details right, Rookwood?"

"That is what the file said this morning in the Auror Office, My Lord," Augustus Rookwood confirmed. Voldemort pinched his lips.

"Winston Shacklebolt may have failed me, but at the very least, he had the good sense to kill himself instead of giving up any information about this organisation. Is there anyone here who would not do the same, were you to fail in a mission?"

No hands went up, and Voldemort nodded. He tapped the back of the empty chair and sighed.

"The Aurors did see Shacklebolt's dormant Dark Mark," he said, "and so I require now that you all keep yours carefully hidden, especially those of you working inside the Ministry. We are going underground for a few weeks; I can't drag the Aurors into open conflict yet. Any questions?"

He received silence in response, so he dismissed everyone. As the Death Eaters left in solemn silence, Voldemort watched Bellatrix start to leave.

"Bella," he called after her, and she paused, letting the others go by her. She waited until everyone had gone, and then she shut the door of the meeting-room and asked,

"Have you need of me, Master?"

"I have a mission for you," he said simply, "and I need it to stay secret. I'm sure you'll understand why."

Bellatrix came and sat beside Voldemort. He warded the doors with a few draws of his wand, and then he set it on the table.

"In a town called Cokeworth, there lives a ten-year-old girl by the name of Lily Evans. A Mudblood. In the year 1980, she and her husband James will have a baby, a boy called -"

"Harry Potter," Bellatrix breathed. "The boy who… that awful boy."

"Yes," Voldemort nodded. "Him. I need to stop him from ever existing. That will radically change the future, obviously. I can't walk the same path I did before. That didn't work."

"Let me kill the girl," Bellatrix said, and Voldemort nodded.

"James Potter comes from a wizarding family. I'll face some resistance; his parents will fight me. I mean to take them out at the same time that you're eliminating the girl, Lily. Can you do it?"

Bellatrix nodded vigorously. "Yes, Master. Of course I can do it. When?"

Voldemort gnawed his lip a little and said softly, "Hallowe'en."

"Hallowe'en," Bellatrix repeated, seeming surprised. "That's a whole month from now."

"They're ten years old, Bella; they're not going to procreate before then." Voldemort rolled his eyes, and Bellatrix nodded. He told her then, "I want to get to them before they go off to Hogwarts. If the conditions aren't right on Hallowe'en - a symbolic date, obviously - then we'll get them around Christmas. I'll make a decision closer to the… the… Bellatrix?"

She had slumped in her chair, and suddenly she appeared to be having a seizure. Voldemort grabbed her convulsing shoulders, but Bellatrix kept shaking. When her face fell back, she gasped loudly, and her eyes were white and cloudy.

"Bellatrix!" Voldemort exclaimed, terrified by the sight of her. He took her face in his hands, and her milky white eyes stared into the distance as she began to speak. When she did, it was as if ten voices were speaking at once - all the way from a booming baritone up to a shrieking squeal.

" _The witch who will aid him in crafting his firmament sits in obedient deference beside him… decades apart from him, inches away… the Dark Lord may fight it, but she is his only… the one upon whom his successes rely… Keeping her near to him, then will he triumph… the Dark Lord, the majesty hinges upon whether he can surrender his whole self to her._ "

Voldemort stared in wide-eyed terror, realising that Bellatrix had just delivered him a prophecy. His jaw went slack and he blinked a few times, shaking his head in shock. Bellatrix slumped forward again, her face smacking hard against the table. She gasped then and sat up, looking dazed as she touched her fingertips to her forehead.

"Ow," she complained, her voice and eyes normal. "I hit my head."

"You… dozed off," Voldemort said, feeling breathless. Bellatrix gave him an apologetic look, but then she teased him,

"Well, my bedroom was invaded last night at rather an odd hour."

"I apologise for that," Voldemort said numbly. Bellatrix gave him a strange look then, and she asked,

"Are you quite all right, Master?"

"Just… erm… I saw you hit your head, that's all." Voldemort knew he couldn't go any paler, but he felt a chill in his veins that made him shiver uncomfortably. He cleared his throat a little and nodded as he said, "Christmas. I think it's far better to hit the families during celebrations. Their guards will be down, and Aurors will be occupied with their own… Lily Evans was childhood friends with Severus Snape, and we may need to... yes. I think getting James Potter and Lily Evans out of the way at Christmas is best. Anyway, we've loads of time to rid ourselves of them."

Bellatrix eyed him suspiciously then, and Voldemort knew at once why that was. _We. Ourselves._ He wrenched his scarlet eyes shut and whispered,

"I'd like you to stay here tonight."

"Whatever you want, Master," Bellatrix nodded. Voldemort's breath hitched inside his chest then as he told her,

"Go to your parents' house and pack a small suitcase. Your toiletries, some clothes and pyjamas. You may be staying for a few nights, if I decide that's what I want of you."

Bellatrix's cheeks flushed a little, but she smiled weakly and reached for Voldemort's hand. He didn't flinch at the way she brushed her fingertips along his chalky wrist, the way she curled her hand into his. He squeezed a little, and she smirked at him.

"I wouldn't have botched it the way Shacklebolt did," she said, and he scoffed a little.

"I know," he said with a nod. "But I have to let the others go on missions, too. They'd feel left out if I told them my nineteen-year-old soldier was capable of handling all my assassinations."

Bellatrix grinned then, her thumb tracing a circle on Voldemort's palm.

"Promise me something, Master?"

"That very much depends," he said crisply, and she demurely lowered her eyes.

"If you mean to make me wait until Christmas to take out the would-be mother of Harry Potter, will you at least let me blow up some more Muggle houses before then?"

Voldemort laughed quietly and asked, "That was fun for you, was it?"

She tipped her head and nodded. "Quite fun."

He licked his lip and gave her a conciliatory brush of his knuckles over her jaw. "As soon as I feel the heat's come off from this Shacklebolt mess, I'll turn you loose on some hapless Muggles, Bella. You ridiculous, venemous creature."

"Venemous," Bellatrix repeated, grinning. "Am I a snake now?"

Voldemort gave her a bit of a playful look and hissed in Parseltongue, " _Can you understand me?_ "

Bellatrix raised her eyebrows and shrugged, and Voldemort shook his head with mock disappointment.

"No, she's not a snake. A different sort of viper, perhaps."

He just stared at her for a long moment then, remembering the words that had come forth from her in a trance - the prophecy.

_The witch who will aid him in crafting his firmament sits in obedient deference beside him… decades apart from him, inches away… the Dark Lord may fight it, but she is his only… the one upon whom his successes rely… Keeping her near to him, then will he triumph… the Dark Lord, the majesty hinges upon whether he can surrender his whole self to her._

"My Lord?" he heard her ask, and Voldemort blinked a few times, snapping back to the moment. She pulled her hand gently from his and suggested, "I'll go pack that suitcase?"

"Yes." He nodded and waved his hand a little, dismissing her. Bellatrix rose and started to walk toward the door, and then she turned slowly with her hand on the knob.

"Do you know," she said carefully, "I _would_ like to go on holiday with you, Master. But… somewhere where you wouldn't be recognised. Somewhere distant and snowy and lonesome. I would like that very much."

His chest ached at that for some reason, and he nodded and said in an unaffected voice, "Hmm. Perhaps someday, eh?"

Bellatrix seemed to study his face for a moment then, and he was abruptly very self-conscious of his thin lips that blended in with his grey skin, his vibrant red eyes, his bald veiny head, and the slits of his flat nose. Bellatrix smiled a little at him, looking as entranced as if he were young and handsome, and she said,

"I'll be back soon, Master."

He said nothing to that; he just let her go.

* * *

"You call this a nightgown?"

Bellatrix grinned into the mirror as she spat out her toothpaste. Behind her, Lord Voldemort was giving her a serious look as he insisted,

"This is not a nightgown. This is a wispy little breath of fabric, nothing more."

"Shall I put on a robe for modesty, Master?" Bellatrix asked, rinsing out her mouth. Voldemort made a low little sound as she bent over, and he said,

"No. You should take this off."

Bellatrix froze then, and when she turned to face Voldemort, she felt profoundly embarrassed.

"My Lord," she said, "as much as I would adore to be naked for you right now… I, erm… I started bleeding a few hours ago. Perfectly normal, I promise."

He laughed a little and rolled his eyes, and Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot, but he insisted, "I'm aware that it's normal. No matter. I went many years without having you at all. I can certainly go a few days."

Bellatrix shifted a little where she stood, leaning back on her hands on the edge of the sink.

"I was hoping… erm… hoping you might show me something."

Voldemort shrugged. "Show you what?"

Bellatrix shut her eyes, far too humiliated to look right at him then. "I was hoping you might show me the ways you like to be touched… Master."

There was silence then, and when she opened her eyes, Voldemort was frowning a little.

"I'm sorry… you want me to masturbate in front of you?"

Bellatrix shook her head wildly. "N-No. It's… it's a stupid idea. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

She started to walk past him, but he gently took hold of her arm, and she turned round to look up at him. He stared down at her for a moment and then said,

"I'll show you. With your hand beneath mine."

"All right," Bellatrix whispered with a nod. She followed him out into the bedroom and climbed wordlessly onto the bed with him. She knelt beside him as he lay back against the pillows a bit. He eyed her flimsy black nightgown and told her,

"I like the look of your breasts in that lace."

"Oh. Thank you, My Lord." Bellatrix glanced down at the low-cut triangles of lace covering her small breasts. She was a little surprised then when Voldemort reached up with his long, pale fingers and dragged them around her chest, tracing the soft undercurve of each side and then trailing up around the top. He hummed a little noise and laced his fingers through Bellatrix's, bringing her hand beneath his robes until she felt firmness in his linen trousers.

Voldemort shut his eyes for a second, brushing Bellatrix's knuckles around his erection, and he mumbled,

"There is one caveat I'll give you. This particular form of mine… this body… it's quite sensitive."

"I don't want to hurt you," Bellatrix insisted, but Voldemort shook his head and huffed,

"No, you won't hurt me. It's only that… well, it's very normal and natural and expected that an older wizard would be _less_ sensitive. Some men my age can't finish. Some can't get hard at all. But this body is rather ageless, you understand, and… I've noticed that everything is sensitive. That's all."

"Well," Bellatrix said reassuringly, "I'm not sitting here timing anything."

He smirked up at her and dragged her fingers around the outline of his cock in his trousers. She watched his eyelids flutter shut, and she realised he was completely hairless - including eyelashes. When his red eyes found hers again, she knew she was studying him closely. He seemed to realise something then, and he murmured in awe,

"You're attracted to me."

"Of course I am," she whispered back, but he scoffed, and his hand stilled.

"I am an old man who looks like a snake. _Of course_ you're attracted to me." His sarcasm was thick, but Bellatrix shrugged.

"I can't help it, Master."

"Well, I won't complain," he told her. He reached to unbutton his trousers, and then he hesitated. "It looks odd. The colour's off, you know."

"I've never spent much time examining other specimens, My Lord," Bellatrix smiled. He did not smile back as he pulled his hard cock out. Bellatrix tried not to gasp. It was so pale that it looked thin as paper, white as the moon with thin veins visible up the smooth shaft. The tip was swollen and purplish. He had no hair at the base or up his stomach.

" _Lubrico_ ," she heard him whisper, and when she brought her hand bravely to his shaft, she felt slick lubrication there. Voldemort gave her a meaningful look and said, "It doesn't feel so nice if it's dry."

"I can relate," Bellatrix said with a shy sort of look. Voldemort curled his long fingers around Bellatrix's and began to pump their hands, spending quite a lot of time up around the tip. He must like it best there, Bellatrix thought. On instinct, she pressed her thumb to the place where the tip and shaft met, and Voldemort dug his head back into the pillow and seethed through clenched teeth. He wrenched his tunic up with his left hand and mumbled,

"It's not going to last."

"That's all right, Master," Bellatrix said, feeling breathless and aroused. She watched their hands move together on him and started to flush between her own legs. She had a self-cleansing device in for the bleeding, of course, but she could still feel her body come alive in spite of the inconvenient timing and the cramps. She made her hand go faster, and Voldemort's fingers started to shake around hers.

"Oh." He wrenched his eyes shut and tightened up, and Bellatrix watched in awe as his cock went harder and thicker than ever. Then she heard him say in a very desperate voice, "Kiss me."

She did, still moving her hand as she bent down to press her lips against his. He was cold to the touch, his tongue awkward in her mouth as he was clearly losing control of himself. Bellatrix nibbled on his bottom lip a little, and for some reason, that seemed to drive him over an edge. He groaned into her mouth, and she tore her lips away. She watched in fascination as his come leaped in ropes up onto his smooth grey stomach. It landed in puddles, and Bellatrix felt compelled to touch it.

"Bella…" Voldemort sounded shocked as she dragged her fingers along the skin of his stomach, spreading the mess around a little. She gave him a weak little smile and asked,

"Did that feel good, My Lord?"

He let out a sound of disbelief and shrugged. "Of course it did. You see what you've done to me, hmm? Yes, it felt good, Bellatrix. _Tergeo. Scourgify._ "

He cleaned up the mess he'd made, the mess on his stomach and her hands, and he quietly tucked himself away again. Then he stared up at Bellatrix and told her,

"Lie down beside me."

She did, facing him as she tucked herself beneath the blankets. Before she could say anything, he snared his sharpening fingernails - they'd grown out a bit - into her curls. He crushed her mouth with his, and Bellatrix drank in the aggressive kiss. He dragged his tongue over the roof of her mouth. His hand tightened against her scalp. His teeth grazed her lip. It felt good. It felt so good that Bellatrix moaned softly. The kiss started to grow deeper then, though the sharp edges were smoothed away into something that felt… different.

He was rubbing her head with the pads of his fingers now. His hand was trailing down her back and pulling her near. His lips were just brushing against hers, his breath and hers tangled in the air between them. Bellatrix felt a tingle come over her entire body, her skin prickling as she realised she'd never felt like this before with him.

"Master," she whispered against his mouth, and he kissed her so carefully that she planted her hand on his bare scalp and rubbed affectionately.

"Bellatrix." Voldemort seemed breathless as he pulled his mouth off of hers. He sat up rather quickly and stared down at her like she was a dangerous animal.

"My Lord?" Bellatrix felt terrified all of a sudden. "Have I angered you?"

"No." He was looking at her with a bizarre expression, as though he feared and adored her at the same time. She watched his throat bob, and he informed her,

"I'm going for a walk in the gardens. Alone."

"Now?" Bellatrix asked as he rose out of the bed. He glared at her and snatched his wand from the bedside table, reminding her,

"I do not require your permission, Miss Black. I'll be back in a little while."

Bellatrix was open-mouthed with surprise as he left, ensuring he was all done up before sliding on his dragon hide shoes and stalking briskly out of the suite. She sat alone in the bed, staring at the door from which he'd just gone, wondering what on Earth she'd done to make him need a moonlit walk on his own.


	9. Chapter 9

' _Tom!' called Mr Burgin at the sound of the bell above the door chiming. 'Customer!'_

' _I've got it, Mr Borgin!' Tom Riddle called back. He stepped out to the counter area and said, 'Good morning. How can I…'_

_He trailed off then, for the young witch who had walked into Borgin and Burkes was Bellatrix Black._

_How was this possible? Had she traveled through time? Tom Riddle cleared his throat, reading a complete lack of recognition on Bellatrix's face._

' _May I help you?' Tom asked, and Bellatrix stared right at him. She studied his eyes, his cheekbones, his lips. She'd recognised his voice, he could tell. She breathed softly,_

' _Master.'_

Voldemort sat up with a gasp, looking beside him to see that Bellatrix was fast asleep.

She'd given him a prophecy. She was a Seer, or perhaps the prophecy simply needed to be heard. And the prophecy had said that Bellatrix was the key to Voldemort's success, that keeping her near was critical.

He'd realised something the night before when he'd walked alone in the gardens, and that realisation had frightened him terribly. Now he swallowed hard and lay back down, determined to get a few hours' rest before the sun came up.

* * *

"There are how many spies in the Ministry?" Voldemort asked, and Rookwood immediately answered,

"Sixteen, My Lord."

"In what departments?" Voldemort inquired, and Rookwood pulled out a leather-bound folio from his elegant briefcase. He cleared his throat and said,

"Two of the Aurors are ours. Three more in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including Yaxley. One working birth registrations - that's new; that's a good placement. Two in the Wizengamot… we should work on increasing that substantially… Four in the Department of Magical Transportation. Doesn't seem like much import now, but they'll be critical when we feel the need to monitor Floo and Apparition. Two in the Department of Magical Creatures… they're working on the centaurs and giants as we speak. The last two are Abraxas Malfoy and myself, working directly under the Minister for Magic."

Rookwood shut the folio, and Voldemort nodded his approval. Then he said,

"Having more in the Wizengamot would be nice, but that's not the top priority. We need the press. New spy placements for the time being are to go to _Prophet._ We won't turn the Ministry until the newspaper's on our side."

"I understand, Master," Rookwood nodded. "We've been trying to get in there, but no one's retired or resigned, so -"

"Then kill one of them," Voldemort snapped, "and have one of ours Imperius their way into employment. Rodolphus Lestrange, perhaps. He's innocuous enough that no one would call him out."

"Very good, Master. Anything else?" Rookwood asked, and Voldemort shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. Rookwood left, and for the next few minutes, Voldemort stared out his window and just thought.

The leaves were going red and orange in the gardens, which was pretty. It would last, Voldemort reminded himself. Pretty things never lasted.

He whirled round at the sound of banging on his office door. He rolled his eyes and barked,

"Come on in, Bella. Why do you always feel the need to… what the blazes happened to you?"

Bellatrix shut the door behind her and came walking slowly, gingerly into the office. She was limping a little, Voldemort could see. Her face was covered in blood, which seemed to be coming from a deep gash on her forehead. Her hands looked like she'd punched concrete, and her leggings were torn. She smelled of fire and smoke.

"What happened?" Voldemort snapped again, walking quickly toward her. He scowled at her, but she grinned and shook a little where she stood.

"I was a little too close," she admitted. "I… erm… I was blowing things up."

Voldemort noticed at once that one of her pupils was much larger than the other. Her left arm was hanging oddly; did she have a dislocated shoulder?

" _Legilimens,_ " Voldemort incanted, deciding that he'd rather see for himself what had occurred. Her mind was throbbing - pain. She was in pain. He worked through it to find the recent memory of what had happened, and suddenly he was taken to a working-class neighborhood with hills around it.

" _CONFRINGO!" Bellatrix was practically dancing down the sidewalk, blowing up one building after another. She had Disillusioned herself, so whilst she might have looked like an odd blur in the air to the Muggles, they were far more focused on the explosions. One Muggle woman almost ran into Bellatrix as she dashed toward the building that had just blown up._

" _Lawrence!" the woman shrieked. "Are you all right?"_

_Bellatrix laughed like mad and aimed her wand at a tree, just for fun. She smirked and said quietly, "Confringo."_

_The tree blew up at once, sending twigs soaring through the air as the trunk toppled to the ground and burned. Suddenly there was an enormous BANG! Bellatrix whirled round to see that one of the buildings she'd blasted apart had spread its fire to the place next door. Evidently, something in the second building had been very combustible. Bellatrix ducked and put up a Shield Charm, protecting herself from the broken glass that flew toward her. All around her, people were screaming and running. Bellatrix laughed again and aimed her wand at the row house in front of her._

" _CONFRINGO!"_

_This time, she forgot in her haste to put up a shield, and when the building burst apart, Bellatrix was socked with flying bricks and shards of glass._

_She found herself knocked to the ground, her own blood mingling with puddles of other people's blood. She crawled in agony through the mess to find her wand, and she finally heaved herself to her feet. It was time to go, she knew. Her head pounded so badly and her ears rang so loudly that she wasn't sure she'd be able to Apparate without Splinching, but it wasn't as though she had much of a choice._

"You got a little carried away," Voldemort said, pulling out of Bellatrix's mind. She smiled up at him and said sarcastically,

"Sorry, My Lord."

"Oh, shut up," he teased. "Come. Let's get you fixed up."

He walked with her up to his suite. She needed quite a bit of help on the stairs, and then she got so dizzy that they had to stop for a few moments. But she eventually hobbled to the suite and sat with a wince on the green velvet sofa.

"I'm getting blood all over this," she noted, but as Voldemort made his way to the potions stores, he shrugged.

"Nothing a few siphoning and scouring spells won't fix. Speaking of which…"

He brought a few bottles over to the sofa, and he aimed his wand at her.

" _Tergeo Sanguinae. Scourgify Trio._ "

He watched as the blood and filth were scrubbed away from Bellatrix's wounds. He picked up a bottle of Essence of Dittany and crouched down. He worked carefully to drop the potion along all her cuts, each laceration hissing and smoking a little as the medicine did its work. He corked the bottle and set it down with the dropper, and then he picked up her left arm. She screamed in pain, arching her back, and Voldemort sighed. He touched his wand to her shoulder and murmured,

" _Episkey._ "

Things snapped back into place, and again Bellatrix screamed. She looked like she was going to throw up from the pain. Voldemort grabbed a bottle of Anodyne Draught and dropped four small doses between her lips. She'd be drowsy from that, he knew, but she needed it. He used his wand then to fix up her torn clothes, and he brushed his pale knuckles over her head.

"I think you've got a concussion, but I don't have a good solution for that. I'm not a Healer."

"Well, you're quite at playing one," Bellatrix informed him. Voldemort smirked and Banished the potions back to the stores. He moved to sit beside Bellatrix, not complaining at all when she leaned her head onto his shoulder. He suddenly remembered the dream he'd had the night before, where he'd been a young Tom Riddle and Bellatrix had come sauntering into Borgin and Burkes. He'd been troubled by the dream all day. He cleared his throat and asked Bellatrix,

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," she whispered, sounding drowsy already. "Are you angry, My Lord?"

"Angry?" He frowned. "Why would I be angry?"

"You said I got carried away," Bellatrix said. "I wasn't seen. What will their newspapers say?"

" _Bombastic Mess Causes Mayhem in…_ where were you?"

"Aberfan. In Wales," Bellatrix murmured. Voldemort scoffed.

"You mean that place that had the giant coal spoil disaster a few years back? Oh, that's just cruel, Bella. You're awful."

He was smiling, though, unable to help himself. He adored how very vicious she could be. She raised her eyes to him and shrugged.

"I thought maybe they'd think it was a mining accident."

"They may," Voldemort nodded. "But, once again, the Ministry will know it was magic, and we'll sow more fear and unease than ever. You did very well. I'm very proud of you, even if you did bang up your head and let glass and bricks slice you open."

"Sorry," she whispered. She had a strange look in her eyes, which Voldemort wanted badly to attribute to a head injury. But he recognised the expression she was giving him for what it really was, and he turned his eyes away, gritting his teeth a bit.

"You should rest," he told her. "You've worked hard today, and that potion's going to make you very tired."

She didn't answer him, so Voldemort waited a moment and then finally scowled down at her, prepared to scold her for ignoring him. But she'd fallen asleep. He stared at her peaceful face for a moment, contemplating taking her into the bedroom so she could sleep on a pillow. But he selfishly wanted her near him, so he just shifted a little and guided her down onto his lap. She seemed comfortable there, squirming up against him and sending a shiver through his veins.

He played gently with her hair, petting her curls and staring at her cleaned, milky skin. He thought of her blowing up houses on her own in Wales, of her walking into Borgin and Burkes before she'd ever been born, of her petting Nagini's head.

And then he shut his eyes and whispered to her sleeping form,

"I think that… perhaps… I might love you a little bit, Bellatrix."

He got no response, of course, so he just kept petting her hair, and he listened to the seconds tick away from the clock in the corner.

* * *

"Pork shoulder."

He sounded amused. Bellatrix looked up from the food that had just appeared on her plate at the dinner table and smiled at Lord Voldemort.

"You said it was your favourite, Master."

"So it is," he replied, "but I told you to choose the menu."

"I did." She picked up a bite of the pork and said in a cheeky voice, "I chose your favourite."

Voldemort just stared for a moment, his eyes looking a little odd. Bellatrix spent a few moments eating, and then she admitted,

"I had the most bizarre dream last night, My Lord."

"Did you?" he asked lightly, and Bellatrix nodded.

"I dreamed that I woke up in the inn at the Leaky Cauldron. There was a newspaper on the bed… it was 1950. I wandered around and went to Knockturn Alley. Inside Borgin and Burkes, there was this very handsome young wizard, and for some reason, he reminded me of you."

"Did he?" Voldemort sounded a bit strained then, and Bellatrix frowned at him. He shrugged and told her, "That's an odd dream."

Bellatrix took a few more bites of her pork, then set her fork and knife down and decided to ask him a question that had been bothering her for some time.

"Have you ever heard of a Horcrux, My Lord?"

His scarlet eyes snapped up, and he asked in a lethally soft voice, "Why would you ask me that?"

Bellatrix felt her veins go a little cold, and she nervously told him, "Back in 1996, I was reading books in the library, trying to find a way home. I found a very old tome that talked about them. About Horcruxes."

" _Dark Magic for Desperate Occasions_ ," Voldemort nodded. He set down his own fork and knife and folded his hands on the table. "You think I've got one."

Bellatrix chewed her lip nervously and said nothing for a while. Finally, meeting Voldemort's eyes, she said,

"I thought about it… I've been thinking about it. About how you took a rebounded Killing Curse but didn't die. You were without a body, and then you were resurrected. So I thought… perhaps you'd made one."

"I made six," Voldemort said matter-of-factly. "There are only five in this time. Nagini was one. I've no idea what's happened to the bit of my soul I put into that snake, now that we've both meddled so severely with time. But, you're not wrong; it's why I was no longer handsome when you first knew me in this time. It's why I had to accept this body. It's why Nagini wanted to be near you."

Bellatrix nodded and stared at her empty plate. "I won't speak of it again, My Lord."

"Good," he said. Bellatrix shut her eyes and gulped hard.

"The young wizard in my dream. Mr Borgin called him _Tom_. My father once told me that you were a few years ahead of him in school and that your name back then was Tom Riddle. Was it you in my dream?"

She opened her eyes to see him staring back at her, his eyes seeming more red than ever. He cleared his throat softly and said in a calm, crisp voice,

"My name was Tom Riddle, the same name as the despicable Muggle who abandoned my Pureblood mother. Granted, she did trick him into loving and marrying her, but he wasted no time in abandoning her as soon as he could. My Pureblood mother died when I was born, and I was raised by Muggles in an orphanage, burdened with my filthy father's name. I shed it as quickly as I could. I killed my father and his equally deplorable parents. So now you know, Bellatrix. I'm a Half-Blood who looks this way because I've split up my soul. Now what do you think of me?"

Bellatrix blinked. "I think you're magnificent."

He smirked and shook his head. "So eager. So loyal. I could tell you I was a Mudblood with a secret wife and children, and you'd still adore me, I think."

Bellatrix frowned. "Secret wife and children?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes and said, "You know what I mean. Your loyalty seems unconditional."

"My loyalty to you is based on what I've seen with my own eyes," Bellatrix said firmly. "Nothing else matters. Nothing else could chip away at my reverence for you."

He didn't answer that, for new plates had appeared with dessert on them. Voldemort seemed to study the honey and pine nut tart for a very long moment, as though he found it remarkably interesting. Bellatrix anxiously picked up her spoon and carved off the end of the tart. She put it into her mouth, relishing the sweet taste. Voldemort raised his face, his hands still folded, and he said in a numb sort of voice,

"I am in love with you."

Bellatrix dropped her spoon. She nearly choked on her bite of tart, finally rescuing herself with a quick swig of rich red wine. She sputtered for a moment, but Voldemort stayed completely calm as he sniffed a little.

"Master," Bellatrix finally whispered, convinced she'd heard him wrong. Voldemort raised his bare brows and said helplessly,

"I realised it the other night. When I was kissing you in bed. Then I went outside and walked around, and I realised it all the more. And the more I think about it, the more certain I am. I did not think I was capable of it, but I am very certain, Bellatrix. I am in love with you."

Bellatrix felt tears come unbidden, streaming slowly down her cheeks as she nervously shoveled two huge mouthfuls of tart between her lips. She was still chewing frantically when Voldemort asked with a bite,

"Have you no response at all to what I've said?"

Bellatrix gulped down wine so fast that she nearly vomited it back up. She set her glass down with a shaking hand and said,

"I'm sorry. I just... wasn't expecting you to say that."

"Well, I wasn't expecting to experience it," Voldemort replied. His tart was still untouched. He sipped slowly from his own wine and murmured, "I do not expect you to reply. I am very well aware that I am abjectly unlovable. I was not loved as a child; I've certainly got no delusions about being loved as an old, destroyed man."

"Destroyed?" Bellatrix shook her head. "No. You survived a rebounded Killing Curse through your own sheer power. You were resurrected because of your own magic. And whether you expect to be loved or not, you are. You're loved by your Death Eaters."

"I am _feared_ by my Death Eaters," Voldemort corrected her, leaving his tart alone and sipping his wine again. "I am respected by most of them. Loved? No. I've never asked for it. I've never wanted it."

"Well, _I_ love you," Bellatrix said confidently, knowing immediately that she'd spoken the truth. Voldemort's face shifted a little, and he blinked a few times before nodding.

"Right. Well. This has been an illuminating meal."

They ate their tarts in silence, and Bellatrix finished another entire glass of wine.

He loved her. He, Lord Voldemort, her master and lord through time and space, loved her. He _loved_ her. Bellatrix shook like a leaf where she sat as she tried to register that information.

"There is a village outside Doncaster," Voldemort said after a long time. Bellatrix looked up from the crumbs that remained of her tart, and he said tightly, "The village is called Auckley. There are no fewer than four Mudbloods living there. One is an elderly man who lives alone. Another is married to a Muggle. A third is married to a Half-Blood. And the fourth is a student at Hogwarts whose parents live in the village. They all live on or very near Spey Drive. I can put all this information into a dossier for you."

"That's not necessary, My Lord," Bellatrix smiled. "Am I taking them out?"

"You're lighting their houses on fire. No explosions, you hear me? Fire." Voldemort gave her a serious look, and Bellatrix laughed softly.

"No explosions. Fire only. When?"

"Eager little creature." Voldemort sounded almost breathless, and he flicked his eyes around for a moment before finally settling his gaze back onto Bellatrix. "This weekend, when you know they'll be home. Go in the middle of the night. I'll get you the exact addresses. Time for a spot of arson, Bella."

She drummed her fingers on the table and asked him, "Are you happy?"

He seemed confused for a moment, but then he licked his bottom lip and nodded.

"You know, it is strange. I am grateful for everything that's happened. I lived these years before, but I did them wrong. I made mistakes. I failed. And, even if I must do it in this body, I have been handed the opportunity to live these years correctly."

He let out an audibly shaky sigh then and finished off his own glass of wine as he told Bellatrix seriously,

"I was not the same after you married Rodolphus. I became… unfocused. I made mental errors. I miscalculated risk; I misjudged characters. I was paranoid and anxious by the time I heard the prophecy about the Potter boy, and I handled that mess impulsively. And I was destroyed by it. The night before you married Rodolphus was, I think, the last time I was truly in control of my own mind. Afterward, it was… I was different. I see that now."

"You're not going to make me marry him this time round, are you?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort sniffed lightly.

"No. I told your father, and I meant it… you're not to be married off. I told Nagini, and I meant it. I mean to keep you."

Bellatrix nodded and smiled just a little at him.

"That sounds wonderful. I'll set those fires for you as soon as I can, Master."


	10. Chapter 10

"Master? Master!"

Voldemort rose from the chair in which he'd been reading a book. Bellatrix came bursting into the sitting room of the suite, her eyes so wide they looked like they were going to bug straight out of her skull. She was visibly shaking with excitement. There was a bit of soot on her cheek, and as she came trotting toward Voldemort, he smirked and asked,

"Did it go so well as that?"

"Mmm-hmm!" Bellatrix giggled softly and dashed toward him, throwing her arms around him. Voldemort froze. People didn't embrace him, and he didn't embrace other people. This was a little strange, the way she was _hugging_ him, but he found he quite liked it. He liked it enough to thread his own arms around her and murmur,

"Show me. _Legilimens_."

_Auckley was quiet. It was one in the morning, and nearly all the houses had their electric lights shut off. Bellatrix illuminated her wand and checked on the letterbox that she was, indeed, at number 10. She smirked a little and aimed her wand at a ground level window._

' _Finestra.'_

_The window smashed quietly, its shards dissolving into sand. Bellatrix edged closer to the window and aimed her wand at the fabric drapes inside._

' _Incendio… Incendio… Incendio.'_

_She lit fires on the drapes, on the carpet, and on the sofa. Then she dashed away, knowing she had to move quickly today. She ran down the street as fast as she could, and when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw flames licking and curling at the window of number 10. Bellatrix grinned as she came up to number 28. She aimed her wand from farther away this time, up at a first storey window that looked like it looked in a bedroom._

' _Finestra… Incendio!'_

_Bellatrix laughed madly then, for her Fire-Making Spell had gone straight into the room, and the flames were visible almost immediately. She kept running, crossing the street and running down a small dead-end road to the home of the Muggles whose child attended Hogwarts._

_No explosions, Voldemort had insisted. Bellatrix sighed in frustration, deciding she could at least have a little fun. She walked right up to the house, breathless from running, and she glanced back to where the other two houses were now burning. She heard voices - screams and shouts for help. She needed to move quickly._

' _Alohomora,' she said, and the door clicked open. She shoved the door and barged into the house, swishing her wand around the foyer and crying, 'Incendio! Incendio! INCENDIO!'_

_She stood there for a while as the house started to burn. She'd started the ceiling on fire, and a beam quickly fell, tearing at the plaster and sizzling as it hit the ground. Flames licked at the wallpaper, which curled off the walls. A mirror fell and crashed on the ground. Bellatrix's heart was racing, but she knew she had one more stop before she left._

_She dashed out of the burning house and started to run next door, to the place where the Mudblood and his Half-Blood wife lived. She giggled like a child as she ran, and then she froze._

' _Stop right there,' said a man aiming a wand at her on the sidewalk. The woman - the witch - raised her own wand and narrowed her eyes._

' _Bellatrix? Bellatrix Black?'_

' _Aurora,' Bellatrix nodded, recognising the Hufflepuff girl from her own Hogwarts year. So this marriage was new, then. She studied the Mudblood and tried to put a name to a face, finally nodding. 'Hamish McLachlan. Ravenclaw. Inter-House marriage. How adorable. AVADA KEDAVRA!'_

_She had whipped her wand at Hamish McLachlan before he could even gasp, and the bright flash of jade light buzzed in the air for a moment after he fell. Aurora, his wife, screamed and seemed to be trying to muster the wherewithal to cast a proper spell. Bellatrix said swiftly,_

' _Expelliarmus. Avada Kedavra!'_

_Aurora's wand soared into Bellatrix's hand, and Aurora slumped down, falling onto her husband. Bellatrix tossed the wand down on top of them and stared at their pyjamas… their flammable pyjamas._

_No explosions, Voldemort had said. Fires only._

' _Incendio,' Bellatrix murmured smoothly. 'Incendio.'_

_As the fallen couple caught fire, Bellatrix looked at the house next door, which had become completely engulfed in flames. She could hear the wailing sirens of a Muggle fire brigade coming. There were three houses and two bodies burning now. It was time to go, Bellatrix thought. She looked around her and laughed a little, touching her fingers to her forehead and hoping that she'd made her master proud._

"Oh, yes," Voldemort nodded, pulling himself out of Bellatrix's mind. "Yes. You've made me proud. So proud."

He kissed her hard then, smelling smoke on her like he had the last time she'd been allowed to go a bit rogue. He found himself pushing her toward the wall, shoving her by her shoulders, and he mumbled against her mouth,

"I'm going to fuck you until you can't breathe."

"Yes." Bellatrix tipped her head back against the wallpaper, and Voldemort nonverbally Vanished every scrap of clothing on her. She didn't seem to care. He kissed her neck so aggressively then that he knew she'd be left with purple bite marks. Good. Let people see what a good girl she was, what a wicked soldier she was.

He wanted to fuck her on the table at a meeting, he thought distantly, though of course that was an insane thought to have. But he couldn't stop reliving the memories of her lighting everything on fire, and his cock was so hard that it hurt.

Suddenly his vision went away. Everything was black.

"Master?" Her voice was distant, cold, weak. "Master?"

 _Bella_. He tried to call out to her, to speak, but there was nothing. He was just lying on the ground, or floating, or something else. He had no idea. Everything had gone away. The sitting room was gone.

" _Rennervate,_ " he heard Bellatrix incant frantically. He felt sleepy all of a sudden, like he'd been dosed with some sort of draught. He tried to blink his eyes open. He tried not to lose hold of the thin thread tying him and Bellatrix together.

 _Master, what are you doing here?_ She knew it was him. She knew the young wizard in Borgin and Burkes was Lord Voldemort. He gulped hard and yanked a key from his pocket, planting it on the counter between them, and he mumbled,

_My flat's near the White Wyvern… the building next to the tattoo parlour. Second storey, unit on the left. Number 4. Go there. Wait for me._

"Wait for me, Bellatrix," Voldemort heard himself murmur, though his voice sounded blurry.

"Master!" Bellatrix was shaking him. She was dropping some sort of bitter liquid between his lips. Wiggenweld Potion. Good girl.

"Good girl," he whispered, but Bellatrix was crying. He could hear it.

"Please wake up," she was saying frantically. "Oh, what else can I do? I need to get dressed; I need to get help."

 _No!_ Voldemort wanted to scream at her. Help would not _help_. Help would reveal whatever weakness this was. He shook his head, or he thought he did. _Just get me into the bed_ , he tried to tell Bellatrix. He could feel himself being Levitated. He could hear her crying.

 _Then it really was you in my dream,_ Bellatrix was saying in Borgin and Burkes. _This is really you._

 _Go to my flat and wait for me, Bellatrix,_ Tom Riddle instructed her firmly.

_Yes, Master._

"Master?"

His eyes sprang open, and he sat up so fast that he got dizzy. Bellatrix was standing beside the bed, wrapped up in one of his dark velvet robes that was entirely too large on her. He'd Vanished her clothes, he remembered now. He cleared his throat, studying her terrified face, and he asked,

"What happened?"

"You were… we were about to… you know," Bellatrix said, her cheeks darkening. "I came back from Auckley, and we -"

"I remember that much," Voldemort snapped. "Why did everything go black? Why was I…"

 _Why was I having visions of you in my past?_ he wanted to ask, but he didn't. Bellatrix shrugged helplessly.

"You fainted, My Lord. Or something similar. I don't know. Should I send for a Healer?"

"No!" Voldemort snarled. "No. In my office, in the cupboard to the right of the desk, there's a detailed medical kit. Go and get it and bring it here, and we'll run some diagnostics."

The last time something like this had happened, it had been before he'd lost his first body. He'd had fainting spells when his heart rate or blood pressure got too high. A side effect of making Horcruxes, he'd read at the time.

Horcruxes.

He shut his eyes and whispered, "Nagini."

* * *

' _This is your home, Master?'_

' _Nothing like Malfoy Manor, obviously, but they don't worship me yet.' Tom Riddle hung up his outer cloak on the rack just inside the door of his tiny flat. He aimed his wand at the miniature kitchen area and asked Bellatrix, 'Tea, Bella?'_

' _No, thank you,' she said numbly, and Tom lowered his wand. He stepped inside, the old wooden floorboards creaking angrily beneath his feet. He studied Bellatrix and she studied him right back. He shrugged a little and asked,_

' _How did you get here?'_

' _I might ask the same of you, Master,' she pointed out. 'How is it that you know who I am but look like a young man?'_

_He didn't have a good answer for that. He approached Bellatrix and put his hands on her cheeks, and she barreled on,_

' _I didn't know you worked at Borgin and Burkes. I thought it was just a dream. How are we both here, and why do you look like -'_

' _A young man? I don't know,' Tom snapped. 'It's been a long time since I saw you.'_

' _Has it?' she asked, her voice a breathy whisper. He nodded and kissed her carefully, slowly, gently._

' _Your lips are soft here,' Bellatrix murmured, 'but your hands are rough.'_

' _Soft. Rough. Old. Young.' Tom brushed his thumb beneath Bellatrix's eye and said, 'None of it matters. You're finally here.'_

' _Finally?' she scoffed. 'I won't even be born for another year.'_

' _You're here,' Tom said again, 'and I love you just like I did when I left.'_

_He started to push her toward his low, lumpy bed by the window, and she moaned softly._

' _My Lord…'_

"My Lord?"

Voldemort opened his eyes and then winced against the bright light. Bellatrix was breathless in a chair beside the Bed. She'd set a heavy trunk on the floor beside her chair. She had a book on her lap, a volume about emergency magical medicine. She opened the book and scanned through the table of contents.

"Diagnostics," she read, and she flipped through the book until she got to the right chapter. Voldemort just stared at her, thinking suddenly that she was extremely pretty. Pretty wide eyes, pretty full lips. She was beautiful. He gulped hard as she read aloud, "This says to begin with a test of the senses to establish if there's been any kind of injury to the brain. Says there's a kit for that in this trunk. Let me see…"

She bent down to rifle about, and then she pulled out a black leather bag with a tag on it that said _Five Senses Testing Kit._ Bellatrix fumbled around for awhile until she pulled out a cardboard card and handed it to Voldemort. She cleared her throat.

"Right. So. Can you please tell me what colour the three circles at the top of the card are?"

Voldemort stared at Bellatrix. She was staying so calm, so collected. She'd been mad with excitement setting fires, but she was calm now. He cleared his throat a little and said patiently,

"Purple. Green. Orange."

"Very well done, Master," Bellatrix said with a nervous smile. "And… erm… can you tell me what shapes are on the next row down?"

Voldemort tried not to look amused. "Square. Triangle. Star."

"Yes. Very good." Bellatrix tapped her wand to the card and mumbled, " _Circulomotor._ Can you follow the moving circle, just with your eyes?"

She was staring at him then as he watched the black circle on the card bounce around. He felt a little dizzy and shut his eyes.

"Don't like that," he admitted. Bellatrix pulled the card out of his hands, and when he opened his eyes, she seemed to be reading something on the page. She frowned and reached into the leather bag again.

"We'll go straight to touch, then… I've got this little stick here. It's not too sharp. You're meant to shut your eyes and tell me when you feel it on your skin."

"I'm meant to shut my eyes and let you poke me with a stick," Voldemort repeated incredulously, and Bellatrix smirked.

"I won't hurt you."

He huffed and shut his eyes, and then he murmured, "I think something's happened to Nagini. I think I lost consciousness because something happened to her, even all that time and space away."

"I wouldn't know if that made sense," Bellatrix admitted. "Did you not feel that?"

"Feel what?" Voldemort opened his eyes and scowled. Bellatrix was touching the little stick to his cheekbone. He shook his head. "No. I don't feel that."

Bellatrix looked very concerned. "Will you close your eyes?"

He did, and then he felt a little poke against the other side of his face.

"There," he murmured. "There. There."

Then there was a silence, and he felt nothing at all. Bellatrix sighed, and when Voldemort opened his eyes, he saw her reading the page before her. She suddenly flipped about a hundred pages further, and he saw that she was reading a section entitled "Strokes and Other Brain Injuries."

"It says here that you should be dosed with an anticoagulant and antiplatelet potion as soon as possible. It suggests Eliqui Elixir, but I don't think -"

"Should be out in the stores," Voldemort mumbled. He picked up his wand and aimed it out toward the sitting room. " _Accio_ Eliqui Elixir."

He felt dizzy and weak then, and as he shut his eyes, he thought he might be sick on the bedspread. He set his wand down, swallowed the bile that had come up into his throat, and heard Bellatrix say quietly,

"Just ten drops for now, Master."

"I can do it myself," he snapped, and he grabbed the bottle of potion from her. She looked a little hurt, and he pinched his lips as he said almost apologetically, "This is an uncomfortable situation for me."

"I understand, My Lord," Bellatrix said, shutting her book and packing up the leather bag of materials. Voldemort let ten drops of Eliqui Elixir fall onto his tongue, and as he screwed the bottle shut, he lay back a little and said,

"I need to know if you've had any more dreams about it being 1950."

Bellatrix looked shocked, and then she shrugged a little.

"A few," she admitted. "I was in your flat… you had a flat next door to the tattoo parlour."

"I did," he nodded. "It's where I lived when I worked at Borgin and Burkes. You saw it in your dreams? What did it look like?"

"It was very small," Bellatrix told him. "We slept on a lumpy little bed under a dirty window."

Voldemort felt cold then. He blinked a few times and asked Bellatrix,

"And I looked young?"

"You were young," she confirmed. "Right around my age."

"Twenty-three," he whispered, shutting his eyes again. "If it was during 1950, then I was twenty-three."

"It was just a dream," Bellatrix argued, but Voldemort glared at her and blurted out,

"Just a dream? I, too, dreamed of it, Bellatrix. I had a vision of it before I lost consciousness, and another before you came back with the medical kit. Between all that and the prophecy, I -"

"Prophecy," Bellatrix interrupted, and Voldemort just stared at her with his mouth open. He shook his head and licked his bottom lip.

"Nevermind," he seethed, feeling his heart race again.

"What prophecy, Master?" Bellatrix demanded. Voldemort dragged his fingernails over the brocade blanket and recited,

" _The witch who will aid him in crafting his firmament sits in obedient deference beside him… decades apart from him, inches away… the Dark Lord may fight it, but she is his only… the one upon whom his successes rely… Keeping her near to him, then will he triumph._ "

He left out the last bit, the parts about surrendering his whole self to her. He turned his face to see Bellatrix staring at him with watering eyes. She dragged a knuckle along the bottom of one eye and asked in a hoarse whisper,

"Who delivered that prophecy, My Lord?"

"You did," he said simply. She seemed utterly shocked.

"When?"

"After a meeting," Voldemort said. "After Shacklebolt died. You went into a sort of trance. You hit your -"

"Head on the table," Bellatrix finished in awe. She chewed her lower lip for a moment and asked, "Why are we having visions of you, with this mind, in your young body? Why am I there in those visions? Why is there a new prophecy?"

"I have no idea," Voldemort said crisply. He sniffed a little. "I still think something's happened to Nagini. I think that's why I collapsed earlier. I don't have any answers right now, and I'm far too tired to think any more on any of this. What time is it?"

Bellatrix looked up at the clock on the wall and said quietly, "It's nearly three, Master."

"You killed that Mudblood and his wife," Voldemort confirmed. "What you did will be in the newspaper… tomorrow's evening edition, probably, or the morning after. Come lie down with me, will you?"

As she moved around the bed, he contemplated that he had some kind of brain injury, that he'd felt an odd rip related to Nagini in his chest. He thought over the visions they'd had of the two of them in his old Knockturn Alley flat. He thought of Bellatrix delighting in the fires she'd lit. And then he felt remarkably tired.

"Let me hold you," he said almost sternly to Bellatrix. She climbed beneath the blankets, still wearing nothing but his heavy velvet dressing gown, and she slithered up beside him. He might be a bit weakened right now, but he was not too weak to play with her hair. He encouraged Bellatrix to splay herself across him beneath the blankets, to put her head on his chest, and he twined his fingers into her curls.

 _You used to like when I did this_ , he'd told her in 1996. But the first time round, he'd always stayed cold and distant, even in moments like this.

Things were different now.

"Bella?" he whispered, and she tightened her fingers on his chest in response. Voldemort shut his eyes and said so gently that his voice seemed foreign, "I do love you."

She was quiet for a moment, and then at last he felt her kiss his chest through the fabric of his robes, and she mumbled in a sleepy voice,

"And I love you, Master."

* * *

' _Master…'_

' _Good morning, Bellatrix.' His hand snaked around Bellatrix's arm, and he cupped her breast through her thin nightgown. Bellatrix hummed with happiness and opened her eyes, staring up at the window that was filthy on the outside. Coal dust. Muggles burned coal in this city to stay warm, and the black soot got on the glass of Tom Riddle's little flat._

_The bed was low to the ground, lumpy and creaking. Bellatrix didn't care. She reached around behind her head and threaded her fingers into Tom's black, thick curls. His mouth latched onto her neck, and Bellatrix gasped at the feel of him kissing her there. He ground his erection up against the small of her back, and she moaned like an utter harlot. His fingers moved quickly to drag up the hem of her nightgown, and he whispered,_

' _No knickers. Naughty girl.'_

' _Tom…' She'd only just gotten used to calling him that, after weeks in this time with him. He shoved her right leg forward a little, and when he touched the tip of his cock between her legs, Bellatrix whispered,_

' _I'm soaking wet for you, Tom.'_

' _Mmph.' Tom pushed in then, slowly, and he began to rock into her from behind. Bellatrix kept her hand in his thick hair, and she mumbled,_

' _Feels so good.'_

' _You like this, don't you?' Tom asked. 'You like being fucked in this wretched little flat by me, don't you?'_

' _Yes.' Bellatrix's voice was just a little, weak breath, and as Tom quickened his hips, he demanded,_

' _What? Say it again. Couldn't hear you.'_

' _I like it, Tom. Oh!' Bellatrix squeezed at the mane of curls on his head as a rather unexpected climax took her over. Tom groaned a bit as he felt her come around him, and he whispered over and over again,_

' _Bella… Bella…'_

"Bella."

She gasped and sat upright in bed, looking around and seeing the elegant bedroom at Malfoy Manor. She was sweaty, Bellatrix realised.. Her hair was damp, and she was panting. She turned to look at Voldemort, who was leaning against the headboard with a curious look on his face.

"You all right?" he asked tightly. "You were moaning and squirming. Was it a nightmare?"

Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot, and she shook her head. "N-No, Master. Very much the opposite."

He narrowed his eyes. "Where were we?"

She gulped. "1950."

"Hmm." Voldemort appeared to drag his tongue over his teeth, and he asked carefully, "Was it morning with me behind you?"

"Yes." Bellatrix was nervous now. Voldemort cleared his throat a little and admitted,

"I woke up an hour ago with… well, suffice it to say that I have not had a so-called 'wet dream' since my Hogwarts days. I think we may have had very similar dreams."

"Why does this keep happening?" Bellatrix asked. "Why are we seeing that time, that place? It's almost as though it's some sort of… of…"

"Alternate reality that we may or may not be living? Yes, the thought's occurred to me." Voldemort's voice was a tight clip then. He brushed his knuckles against the left side of his face and said, "I still can't feel the left side properly, but we've no choice. We've got a meeting in a few hours. I won't cancel; it'll arouse all sort of suspicion if I do."

"Do you require assistance, Master?" Bellatrix asked, but Voldemort didn't answer her. He was staring at the door that led from the bedroom to the sitting-room. He wordlessly climbed out of the bed, and as he stalked toward the door, Bellatrix's veins went cold.

" _Ssssayonath elesssioth? Nagini esssgothialesss?_ "

"Nagini?" Bellatrix leaped from the bed and dashed over to where Voldemort stood. There she was - the thick, long snake whom Bellatrix had met in 1996. A Horcrux, she knew now. Nagini had a bit of her master inside of her. Bellatrix crouched down as though Nagini were an adorable puppy to be greeted. The snake immediately curled up around Bellatrix's shoulders and down her right arm, and Bellatrix grinned up at Voldemort.

" _Gayonesss alesssiyonagasss…_ " Voldemort said to the snake in Parseltongue, and Nagini hissed something unintelligible back. Voldemort smirked at Bellatrix.

"She has no idea how she got here, but she's very happy to see you."

"I'm happy to see her, too!" Bellatrix dragged two fingers down Nagini's head as the serpent slid over Bellatrix's torso and across her lap. Bellatrix giggled softly and declared, "I've missed you. Pretty girl."

When she raised her eyes, Voldemort had an odd look on his face. Bellatrix frowned a little, and Voldemort shrugged.

"She knew before I did," he told Bellatrix. "She knew I loved you before I knew it."

"She's a snake," Bellatrix reminded him. "She can't understand what love is."

"She has my soul within her," Voldemort said, "so she knew. She knew."

"You thought she'd been destroyed," Bellatrix reminded Voldemort. "Do you suppose perhaps you were just jolted by the feel of a Horcrux moving through time?"

"Probably," he nodded. "It doesn't matter much now, does it? We've a meeting in a few hours. Let's get dressed and go have some… erm… lunch."

He'd looked at the clock, which read nearly eleven. Bellatrix wasn't surprised; they'd not fallen asleep until three. But she was very reluctant in putting Nagini down and stepping away, and the snake seemed even more hesitant to leave her, following her to the wardrobe like a dog.

"I know she's yours, Master," Bellatrix laughed softly, "but she does quite like me. And I like her right back."

"She's not mine anymore, I don't think," Voldemort said, and then a look of almost horrified realisation seemed to come over his face. He whispered softly, "She has my soul, and she's yours now."

"I didn't mean to upset you, Master," Bellatrix insisted, but Voldemort shook his head roughly and barked,

"Get dressed. I'm famished."

* * *

"Is it true you were the ones to set the fires in Auckley last night?"

Bellatrix turned her head at the sound of Rodolphus Lestrange's voice. Bellatrix smiled weakly as Rodolphus sank into the chair beside her.

"Yes, it's true," Bellatrix said. "I had quite a lot of fun doing it, too, I have to say."

Rodolphus gave her a very warm smile, and he informed her, "It's my birthday next week. I wonder if you'd come celebrate with me."

Bellatrix scowled. "Is there a party?"

"Yes, just a small one that Rabastan's throwing," Rodolphus said with a shy little smile. "Avery, Nott, Abraxas Malfoy, our cousin Theo, Amycus and Alecto Carrow, Rookwood, a few others. Not a big to-do, you know, but -"

"I'd have to ask the Dark Lord," Bellatrix said firmly, and Rodolphus frowned a bit.

"This isn't anything to do with Death Eater work," he said. "It's completely off the clock."

"I'm never really off the clock," Bellatrix insisted. "Happy birthday in advance. I'll look into the party."

Rodolphus opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the door to the meeting room opened, and Voldemort came walking in, barefoot and grey-faced, Nagini trailing behind him. A shiver of fear went around the room, but Bellatrix felt only relief in her master's presence. He gestured for everyone to sit, and when they did, Nagini headed straight for Bellatrix.

" _Hayanosssieth Nagini ayatothosss._ "

People seemed uneasy at seeing Lord Voldemort speak in Parseltongue, and even more uneasy when the giant snake obeyed his apparent command to come back beside him. Voldemort folded his hands on the table and appraised everyone for a moment before he said in a slow, easy tone,

"Last night, three houses in Auckley were burned, and a Mudblood and a Half-Blood traitor were killed. Excellent work, Bellatrix."

"I only hope I've pleased you, My Lord." Bellatrix bowed her head. When she looked up, Voldemort was pulling something silvery from his robes. He set it on the table and gestured to Bellatrix with one finger. She rose and scampered over to him, and he held out a single Sickle to her. Bellatrix frowned in confusion but took the coin and said,

"Erm… thank you, My Lord, but this isn't necessary…"

"Isn't it? No, you're quite right." Voldemort snatched the Sickle back and Vanished it with nonverbal magic. Then he said to everyone around the table, "Your service to me is performed without traditional trappings like salary, without physical reward. Your reward is being on the right side of history. Your reward is my approval, my satisfaction. And, Bellatrix, you satisfied me perfectly well last night in Auckley."

She smirked a little at the double entendre. Voldemort casually turned his scarlet gaze to Rodolphus Lestrange, and he said in a low hiss,

"She will not be in attendance."

Rodolphus' face went chalk white, then flushed reddish-purple with shame and humiliation. Voldemort left the others to be confused by his words. Bellatrix felt an odd rush of happiness. Once upon a time, in the years he'd lived, Voldemort had forced her to marry Rodolphus Lestrange.

Things were different now.

Voldemort gave her a solemn look, but then the corners of his lips curled up. Nagini slithered toward Bellatrix again, and this time, Voldemort didn't stop her. Bellatrix pet Nagini's head gently beside her chair, and she smiled a bit at Voldemort.

She had a sudden flash to the dream from which she'd awakened, with him behind her, pushing his body against hers with his hand on her breast.

 _Tom_ , she'd moaned, her fingers tangled in his thick, dark curls. She stared at him now, at the fearsome Lord Voldemort, and he stared right back with his scarlet eyes, his bald grey head, the slits of his flat nose. Then he nodded and turned his face, and he told the others,

"Keep up your work. Dismissed."


	11. Chapter 11

' _So this is the place. This was your home.' Bellatrix stared up in awe. Tom Riddle followed her gaze up to the gate before Wool's Orphanage, and he shook his head firmly._

' _I certainly never thought of it as home. But I was a boy here.'_

' _It's dreadful,' Bellatrix said. Rain was pattering around them in soft droplets that turned her wild mane into a halo of damp curls. She turned her face to him, and he asked very seriously,_

' _Will you marry me?"_

_Bellatrix just blinked, looking unfazed by the question, and she noted, 'This is the sixth time you've asked just this week.'_

' _I keep hoping that perhaps your answer might change,' Tom said. Beyond the orphanage, a rumble of thunder rolled through the air. Bellatrix sighed and whispered,_

' _I can't.'_

' _I know,' Tom nodded, 'but just tell me you will. I just want to hear… hear you say that you will.'_

_Bellatrix lowered her eyes and asked in a murmur, 'You want to pretend?'_

' _I want to pretend,' Tom answered. 'So. Will you marry me?'_

_Bellatrix looked up as the rain began to fall harder. She looked at the orphanage and mused, 'I wonder what she was thinking when she came here. Did she know she'd die? Was she frightened? Why did she still name you after that awful man? Merope… I wonder.'_

' _Bella.' Tom waited for Bellatrix to turn back to him, and he asked once more, 'Will you marry me?'_

' _Yes, Tom.' Bellatrix sounded a bit resigned. 'I'll marry you.'_

Voldemort took a few deep breaths where he sat in his office. He'd just gone into some sort of trance, an altered state of mind that had left him feeling dizzy and weak.

He rose on shaky legs from his chair and walked over to the little cart in the corner of his office. He opened the crystal bottle of fine firewhisky and tried not to tremble as he poured half a tumbler for himself. It was entirely too much whisky, he knew, but he needed it today. He had a meeting in a half hour with his innermost circle of Death Eaters to discuss progress at the Ministry and new missions.

She'd be there. Bellatrix.

He sipped from the glass of burning liquor as he contemplated the way he'd tried his best not to contact her. He'd gone four days now without seeing her or writing to her. He'd been trying to put some distance between them, but now he knew he did not want that distance. He was craving her. It was though he were starving and she was the promise of food. He _needed_ her.

Still, the vision he'd just had - the sight of the two of them in front of Wool's Orphanage - was mildly terrifying. Voldemort took a too-generous swig of firewhisky and tried to convince himself that it was just some odd sort of hallucination. Surely there was no such existence, a place where he knew Bellatrix but was living as Tom Riddle, a place where they were together before she had even been born… a place where he'd asked her to marry him and she'd insisted that she couldn't.

It was just a dream, a hallucination, some sort of waking nightmare, he insisted to himself. Nothing more. It couldn't be anything more.

" _Master, I feel her near. She is here. She is here!_ " Nagini slithered up before Voldemort, who scowled as he drank more firewhisky.

" _She is here for a meeting, not for personal interaction,_ " Voldemort said firmly in Parseltongue, setting his tumbler down on his desk and walking toward the door of his office. Nagini followed him, faithful as a puppy, and Voldemort shut the office door behind them. He worked his way down the corridor to the meeting room, and when he came inside, it was empty. He stared at Nagini and hissed in Parseltongue,

" _Why do you care so much about her?_ "

He began to pace as Nagini answered back,

" _You are in love with her, and so I must be near her. That is why I came here, to this time. I must be near her._ "

Voldemort stared at the snake, tipping his own reptilian head a little as he huffed a sigh and pointed out,

" _She has a name, you know. She's called Bellatrix._ "

" _Bellatrix…_ " Nagini hissed the name and looked as blissful as a snake could possibly do. Suddenly the door to the meeting room opened, and Bellatrix came in. She shut the door behind her, and all Voldemort could bring himself to say was,

"You're early."

"Shall I wait outside, Master?" Bellatrix asked, and he just shook his head. She looked so beautiful that it almost hurt to stare at her. She wore a simple, knee-length dress of black wool, long-sleeved with a modest neckline, but it hugged her body just right. The wide black leather belt around her tiny waist was aggressive set against the femininity of the gown. Her curls had been plaited into a loose braid that was tossed over a shoulder, and she wore the clock pendant he'd bought her around her neck. Voldemort started to walk toward Bellatrix, and as Nagini followed, he hissed roughly in Parseltongue,

" _Give me space, Nagini._ "

The snake retreated, and Voldemort stepped closer to Bellatrix. She looked a little nervous for some reason, and then Voldemort realised why.

"Wool's Orphanage?" he asked quietly, and Bellatrix nodded. He let out a breath from the slits of his flat nose, and he lowered his gaze as he told her almost cruelly, "I would never ask you that. I would never in a million years ask you if you would -"

"I know, Master," Bellatrix interrupted him. He raised his eyes to hers, and she looked calmer now. She shrugged and said helplessly,

"It was just a vision."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes and asked, "When?" When did you see it?"

"A few hours ago," Bellatrix answered. That was odd, Voldemort thought. This was the second time they'd had precisely the same impression of that alternate time, but not simultaneously. Voldemort closed the gap between himself and Bellatrix, and he held her face in his hands as he confessed, "I went almost fifteen years without laying eyes on you, and somehow the last four days have been just as painful as that."

"You missed me?" Bellatrix smiled a little, looking like her knees had gone weak. Before Voldemort could answer, Bellatrix whispered, "You smell like firewhisky."

"That's because I was drinking firewhisky," Voldemort snapped. He lowered his face until his mouth met hers, and he kissed her softly a few times. Her breath was warm on his lips as she mumbled,

"You taste like firewhisky, too."

"Bella." He was hungry then, and she was nourishment. He needed her so badly that his breath hitched, and he dove in to kiss her much more fervently than before. His tongue plunged between her lips, raking over the roof of her mouth, and Bellatrix moaned wantonly into his mouth. Voldemort urged her toward the table, and she didn't protest as he lifted her up on the edge. He started to work up the hem of her woolen skirt, and Bellatrix yanked her lips from his.

"People are coming," she reminded him. "I was early; they'll be on time."

"I'll be quick," Voldemort insisted, his thinking gone sloppy. He was completely intoxicated, by firewhisky and by her, and he shoved his hand beneath her skirt. He yanked aside the crotch of her knickers, and Bellatrix gasped as he started to drag the pads of two fingers around her damp folds. He used his pale face to shove her chin aside, and he quickly latched onto her neck. He suckled so hard that she seethed through clenched teeth, throwing her head back. Her hand went for his bald head with its little rivers of veins. She didn't mind him, he knew. She didn't mind his red eyes or his grey flesh. She didn't mind that he was very tall and stick thin now, nor the way his nose had gone snakelike. She _wanted_ him. She desired him. He could tell by the way that her quim had gone wet, the way she was moaning as she kissed his neck. He was so hard that he could hardly take it, and he found himself wondering how quickly he could finish.

"Oh! My Lord." Bellatrix wrenched his face from her neck then, and her wide eyes stared behind him. Voldemort growled in irritation as he slowly pulled his hand from Bellatrix's skirt and helped her down. He wiped his hand on his robes, glad they were billowing enough to conceal his erection. Bellatrix might be embarrassed, but he wasn't, so when he turned round, he said in a quiet, measured tone,

"Yaxley. Malfoy. Do come in."

Both wizards were red-cheeked with humiliation and fear. Bellatrix was yanking on the hem of her skirt, as though somehow she'd make it longer by pulling at it. Her breath was audibly quick and shallow, and she was so scarlet with mortified discomfort that Voldemort felt a little sorry for her. He cleared his throat and snapped,

"Sit down, all of you."

He took his own chair at the head of the table, and Nagini immediately went to Bellatrix's chair.

" _You absolutely must sit with her, I suppose?"_ Voldemort hissed in Parseltongue.

" _I must be near her, Master,_ " Nagini replied. Voldemort rolled his crimson eyes a little and turned his attention to Yaxley.

"You and Rookwood have managed to get Rodolphus Lestrange in at the _Daily Prophet_ , I presume?"

Yaxley seemed more afraid than ever. "We are working as quickly as possible on that, My Lord."

"Work faster," Voldemort ordered. "We need the press."

"Yes, My Lord. We are doing everything we can, but we'll do more. We'll find a way," Yaxley said quickly. Voldemort gave him a crisp nod and turned to Malfoy.

"I want to make your son Lucius a Death Eater over the Christmas holidays. I need a good, reliable spy inside Hogwarts."

"What an honour, Master. Truly." Malfoy appeared to have forgotten all about walking on Voldemort with his hand up Bellatrix's skirt. His mind, Voldemort could plainly tell, was thinking about how near his family was to Voldemort, how very important they'd become.

"Never forget, Malfoy, that your family are my servants," Voldemort said, his voice laced with warning. Malfoy nodded humbly, and Voldemort said,

"Yaxley, prepare a dossier about an Auror. Someone sentimental… a young witch, perhaps, or a parent of small children. Someone whose loss will be keenly felt. Bellatrix and I will jointly assassinate them. Choose wisely and get the dossier to me as soon as possible. Bella, you and I will meet once we have the dossier to strategise. This time, we'll cast the Dark Mark."

Bellatrix smiled a little and looked overwhelmed.

" _Take her upstairs. Finish what you started,_ " Nagini hissed in Parseltongue. " _Take off all of her clothes and twine your body with hers. She wants you, and you want her. Take her upstairs and -"_

" _Do shut up, Nagini,_ " Voldemort practically snarled. Everyone else looked very confused indeed, but Voldemort just took a steadying breath and said, "Yaxley, Malfoy. You may go. Malfoy, hold off on informing Lucius; I don't want that message tied to the foot of a bird. Yaxley, think _urgency_ regarding Lestrange at the newspaper and the Auror dossier. Good day."

"Good day, My Lord." Malfoy stood and bowed a little, and Yaxley did the same. Both eyed Bellatrix as they left, though of course they knew better than to say anything. They simply left, shutting the door behind them. Voldemort waited until he couldn't sense their minds nearby, and he finally turned his face back to Bellatrix.

"So," she said tightly, "we're taking out an Auror."

"I apologise," Voldemort said immediately. Bellatrix threw her hands and eyebrows up and sighed.

"They saw what they saw, My Lord. Short of Obliviating them, there's nothing to be done. No use perseverating on it."

Voldemort stared at Bellatrix for a long moment then, wanting her so much that her heart began to race. He drummed his fingers on the table and said softly,

"I made you feel embarrassment."

"That is something you've little experience feeling, I take it," Bellatrix guessed. Voldemort pinched his lips and shook his head slowly.

"You've seen the orphanage in your mind. Do you suppose I took pride in being the only student at Hogwarts who returned to a Muggle orphanage over summer holidays? Do you suppose I took pride in my second-hand school supplies or my worn-out shoes?"

Bellatrix looked a little surprised. "N-No. Probably not."

"I know what it is to be embarrassed," Voldemort said, unable to keep himself from smirking just a little. "Believe me; those wizards were far more humiliated than either of us."

Bellatrix sent one eyebrow skyward and asked, "Were _you_ embarrassed, My Lord?"

Voldemort thought of the way he'd been kissing her neck with his fingers against her clit when Malfoy and Yaxley had walked into the room. He let out a low, rumbling laugh and shook his head.

"No, Bella. It would take more than that to embarrass me."

"What I saw in that vision was real, then?" Bellatrix asked suddenly, looking curious where she sat.

"Real? That depends on how you define real." Voldemort dragged his fingertips over his bald head and said, "The orphanage is real. That Tom Riddle was real. You are real. You and I saw the same things, the same spaces. But is that experience _real_? No. I don't think so."

"Are you just saying that because you kept asking me to marry you in the vision?" Bellatrix was unafraid now, he could see. She even tipped her chin up just a little bit. Voldemort ground his teeth together a bit and huffed out a little breath.

"I'll summon you as soon as I have the dossier from Yaxley."

Bellatrix looked a little hurt then, but she nodded and bypassed Nagini as she headed for the door.

"Thank you, Master. I'll wait for your call."

"Bellatrix." Voldemort hurled himself up from his chair and snatched Bellatrix's wrist. She whirled round, and he cradled her cheek in his hand. He bent and touched his forehead to hers. He spent a moment just breathing. In and out. In and out. Her breath and his tangled and mixed, and Voldemort brushed his thumb along Bellatrix's cheekbone. He touched his lips to hers and whispered, "I want you to stay."

She raised her eyes up to his, looking young and almost angelic. "Shall I stay the night, My Lord?"

"Yes," he replied. He kissed her again, carefully, taking his time. Yes, he wanted her in his bed. Yes, he wanted her to see him when he woke in the morning, Yes, he wanted to play with her hair while she fell asleep curled up alongside him. He wanted all of that. He wanted more than that.

" _Ask her to pack many clothes and stay forever, Master. Ask her to stay here and never go again._ "

Voldemort scowled in Nagini's direction, still holding onto Bellatrix's cheek as he hissed back in Parseltongue,

" _If you had it your way, I'd ask her to marry me like the moronic Tom Riddle did in the vision._ "

Nagini did not reply. She just slithered over to where Bellatrix stood, twining round her ankles as Bellatrix giggled a bit. As Nagini made her way under the table, Voldemort gulped and instructed Bellatrix,

"I want you to stay for dinner. And then I want you to spend the night. And in a few days, once we have the dossier, I want you to come with me and eliminate an Auror."

Bellatrix smiled and nodded vigorously. "Yes, My Lord."

* * *

"A… shop."

"Yes," Voldemort nodded, and Bellatrix scoffed a little.

"A shop in Diagon Alley."

"So that you can serve me as a spy. Yes." Voldemort's voice was terse and tight in his stuffy office, and he sounded annoyed as he noted, "You seem almost _offended_ by my orders, Bellatrix."

She shook her head and insisted, "No, Master. Of course not. But I must ask… why are you pulling me out of combat?"

He said nothing for a moment. He just stared at her, and from beside her, Nagini hissed something Bellatrix couldn't understand. Voldemort glared at Nagini and hissed back,

" _Kaganosss isssieth haladisssas gakalothosss._ "

The snake started to answer in Parseltongue, but Voldemort swished his wand through the air, sending Nagini hurtling toward a wall, and he barked out in English, "Shut up, you ridiculous animal!"

Bellatrix flinched where she sat, for poor Nagini slammed into a bookcase and fell to the ground. The snake curled up in a corner and spoke no more, and Voldemort seethed quietly. Bellatrix knew better than to ask what Nagini had said. Voldemort touched his long spindly fingers to his bald grey head, and he murmured softly,

"Her insistence these last few days has been more than a little irritating."

"Insistence? What is she insisting upon?" Bellatrix asked. Voldemort didn't reply. He drew his tongue along his bottom lip, very slowly, and Bellatrix asked, "Are you taking me out of combat because you're afraid I'll die in battle?"

"Yes," Voldemort whispered at last. Bellatrix frowned.

"Well, then… teach me to make a Horcrux."

"No," Voldemort replied immediately. Bellatrix balled up her fists and demanded,

"Why not?"

"You are being insolent! Disobedient little wretches, the both of you!" Voldemort snarled, and she realised that he meant both Bellatrix and Nagini. Bellatrix glanced back to where the snake had curled up, having been thoroughly rebuked by her master. Bellatrix herself felt her heart start to race, and she mumbled,

"I'm sorry, My Lord. I did not mean to disrespect you."

He seemed to be calming down then. His temper had run away from him, she could tell. Finally, he rose from his chair, his movements in this odd form fluid and easy. He stood in front of his fireplace and stared at the mantle clock, the one he'd bought at Borgin and Burkes in 1996, the one that had brought him here to be reunited with Bellatrix.

Suddenly, Bellatrix was socked with a vision so strong, so clear, so very real that she wouldn't have been able to deny it.

' _Mint,' Bellatrix said with a little smile. 'Wouldn't have guessed mint, My Lord.'_

_Tom Riddle smirked as he joined her at the table outside Florean Fortescue's. 'No? What flavour of ice cream did you think I'd get, Bella?'_

' _Oh, I dunno,' she replied, dipping a spoon into her own glass cup of honey and sea salt flavoured ice cream. She finished her bite and asked, 'How was work today, Tom?'_

' _Dull and uninspiring,' he replied. He raked his thick black curls back with his fingers and assured her, 'I'll be so much more powerful this time. I know who to eliminate straight away. I know the roadblocks I encountered. I know the weaknesses that threatened me. And this time, Bellatrix… this time, I have you. And the prophecy -'_

' _The prophecy.' Bellatrix shook her head firmly and reminded him, 'You've been the subject of several prophecies.'_

' _All of them true at the time they were delivered, I think,' Tom said. He stared directly into Bellatrix's eyes for a moment, and she was struck by how profoundly handsome he was. She chewed her lip as she admired his smooth skin, his high cheekbones, his hair…_

' _Your ice cream's dripping, Tom,' she told him, and he smirked once again as he licked at the cone, sending a shiver down Bellatrix's back._

Bellatrix gasped where she sat in Voldemort's office, and she looked up to see him gripping the mantle tightly. He glared at her over his shoulder, and she just nodded. They'd both had the same vision. She could tell. She watched Voldemort's throat bob, as if he were anxiously considering something.

"We can't," Bellatrix whispered. "I wasn't even born then."

"I admit that I have no idea what happens to the other iterations of us when we move around through time," Voldemort said with a nod. "I admit that I would have no clue what to do when Druella and Cygnus Black had a little baby girl less than a year after we arrived in that time. But people who use Time-Turners… they exist twice in the same place and time. It _is_ possible. Strategy would be critical. Careful manipulation of identities would be critical. But the prophecy said that I needed to surrender my whole self to you, Bella, and I was more whole back then."

"You were Tom Riddle then." Bellatrix felt her eyes burn. She stood and slowly walked to him, putting her hands on his cheeks and shaking her head. "I'm frightened."

He scoffed. "You've gone to the future, woken up in a prison. You've been freed from that prison into a world where your sister was in her forties and had a teenaged son. You've come back with a completely altered master. And you're afraid of going to 1950? Are you? Are you really afraid of that, because I don't believe you. The Bellatrix I know would never be afraid of something like that."

Bellatrix shut her eyes. "I'd have to use a different name."

"Sorry; can there not be more than one Bellatrix in the entire world?" Voldemort snapped, and she shrugged.

"A different surname, then."

"Yes," he agreed. "Riddle."

Bellatrix's mouth fell open, and for a moment she couldn't breathe. Voldemort blinked and told her,

"I stopped using the name fairly quickly; I'd stop even earlier given the opportunity. Second chances are rare, Bella. Third chances… I am not going to throw away this chance. This is the door that leads to an unfettered ascent."

"What if you get there, and you look like this?" Bellatrix gestured up and down his body, and Voldemort shook his head.

"I won't."

"How do you know?" Bellatrix demanded. This time, he didn't scold her for her insolence. He just said calmly,

"I believe that the visions we have been experiencing have been… cues. Prompts. Hints. You gave me that prophecy and… and I didn't tell you all of it. _The witch who will aid him in crafting his firmament sits in obedient deference beside him… decades apart from him, inches away… the Dark Lord may fight it, but she is his only… the one upon whom his successes rely… Keeping her near to him, then will he triumph… the Dark Lord, the majesty hinges upon whether he can surrender his whole self to her._ "

Bellatrix thought she was going to faint then. Her knees actually buckled, and suddenly she'd been swept into Voldemort's arms, held very close to him as he panted with anticipation.

"We have to go," he whispered. "I already had Horcruxes. Nagini has been telling me for days to go, to stay as human as I was, to learn from my mistakes and to actually succeed this time. I will rule everything, Bellatrix, and you will… you will be with me, because that's the only way it will work."

Bellatrix thought again about being born in 1951, and she worried, "We might disappear."

"No. No, think clearly, Bella!" Voldemort clutched her face, his hands shaking almost violently on her skin. "I've already destroyed certain things about the 1996 I knew. Different people have been killed, different places burned down, and yet… here I am. The me that you found in that time. I know… I just _know_ … that I will be young again, that I will be able to walk this path to power and actually clutch it in my fist. And you must be with me. Bella Riddle. Please."

 _Please_. He'd so rarely ever spoken that word that it almost sounded alien coming from his lips. Bellatrix trembled where she stood, glancing back to Nagini, and then she asked,

"Are you certain you don't want to just stay here and have me work in a shop on Diagon Alley? I'll be your spy. I'll be whatever you want."

"I want you to live with me in that little flat by the tattoo parlour," Voldemort whispered. Bellatrix stared into his red eyes, glanced down over his snakelike face, and started to cry silently. He kissed her, so gently that new tears boiled up, and he said, "I need you. If I am going to rule everything, then I need you. You have to come with me."

"All right," Bellatrix nodded. Voldemort let her go then, and he looked like he might be sick as he opened the glass covers on each of the three clock faces above the mantle. He let out a shaking breath and began adjusting the hands. He set the strange faces to the twenty-eighth of October, 1950, and when he shut the glass covers, he pulled out his wand. He pushed a brass button on the top of the clock, and with his left hand, he took hold of Bellatrix. He clutched her wrist so tightly that it hurt, but Bellatrix was distracted by the way Nagini had slithered over to them.

"Goodbye, Nagini," Bellatrix whispered, for she had a sneaking suspicion she'd never see the snake again.

" _Moveri Pertempus. Moveri Perstratium. Moveri Pertempus. Moveri Perstatium._ " Voldemort was repeating the spells over and over again, his wand aimed at the clock on the mantle. Suddenly the hands on all three faces began to spin wildly, and then Bellatrix felt an odd, awful sort of lurch. It was like Apparating, only so much more violent. She screamed at the pain, at the terrible squeeze in the darkness. She was colder than she'd ever been.

Then, without warning, she'd been tossed to the ground. She landed so hard that she knew she'd have a bruise on her hip. She looked around and called frantically,

"My Lord? My Lord!"  
He hadn't come. She was in the tiny flat, the one from the vision. She looked about as she painfully forced herself to her feet. There was the lumpy little bed by the dirty window. There was the miniscule kitchen, the tiny bathroom, the rickety-looking old wardrobe.

"My Lord?" Bellatrix said again, this time feeling sure she'd lost him forever.

Suddenly she had an idea, a wild idea, and she flung open the door of the flat, her boots pattering on the creaky steps with their threadbare carpet. She dashed out the front door of the building and looked next door. There was Markus Scarrs Indelible Tattoos, right beside the White Wyvern. Bellatrix hustled down Knockturn Alley, sidestepping shoppers and people who simply seemed up to no good. She finally reached Borgin and Burkes, and she hesitated before going inside. She tried to breathe, tried to realise that this could just be a vision like any other. But then she pinched her skin, and it genuinely hurt, and she knew this was real. She finally forced herself to open the shop door, and when she did, a little bell rang overhead.

"Tom!" called a voice from the back of the shop, "Customer!"

"I've got it, Mr Borgin."

Bellatrix froze. His voice was clear and young. When he came walking out from the back room of the shop, he was the handsome, black-haired young wizard from the visions. He silently made his way out and stood behind the counter, and when he smirked at her, she knew that he'd recognised her. All she could bring herself to do was to walk slowly toward him and whisper,

"Hello, Master."

His smirk grew into an elated sort of grin, and he nodded. "Hello, Bella."


	12. Chapter 12

"Mint."

Tom Riddle laughed a little as he sat opposite Bellatrix at a table inside Florean Fortescue's. He shrugged.

"I like mint ice cream."

"Hmm." Bellatrix looked serene as she studied him, and he knew why. He had been genuinely handsome in his youth. Gone was his flat nose with its snakelike slits. Gone was his bald, veiny head and his chalky, paper-thin flesh. Gone were his angry scarlet eyes and the severe, bare brow bone. He was a tall, lanky young man here, with thick black waves on his head, with a sharp gaze and full lips. He was so much more human here, though he already had Horcruxes.

"So," Tom said quietly, glancing about to ensure no one was listening, "if anyone asks, your name is Bella, and you attended Ilvermorny. Horned Serpent was your House. Keep your age ambiguous; don't answer any questions about your family. You're a Half-Blood, by the way; you've got Muggle family here in Britain and wizarding family in America."

Bellatrix looked utterly horrified, and she whispered, "I'm a Pureblood!"

Tom rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know. Not all of us Half-Bloods are despicable, you do realise? This is the only way."

"Right. I'll be very careful, Master," Bellatrix nodded.

"Don't call me that!" he hissed, and her eyes went wide.

"What am I meant to call you?" she demanded, and Tom ate some of his mint ice cream before he reminded her,

"My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I have not yet had the opportunity of being called anything else. Call me Tom."

Bellatrix shook her head. "I can't do that, My Lord."

" _Tom_ ," he hissed. Bellatrix dug her spoon into her caramel pecan ice cream - Florean Fortescue's didn't have honey flavour today - and she muttered,

"Tom. All right. Tom. So, you've been here an entire week?"

"It seems as though we both moved and came close, but I landed on the twenty-first of October, and you landed on the twenty-eighth. I fully confess to being rather devastated when I thought I'd lost you in the process. I've been a bit miserable at work. I convinced myself you'd Vanished into the ether. Imagine my happiness when you came walking into Borgin and Burkes this afternoon."

"And where is the you who lived here?" Bellatrix asked. "Where is the Tom Riddle who knew nothing of Bellatrix Black in 1950? The Tom Riddle who had never yet lived as the Dark Lord?"

"I don't know," Tom admitted. "It seems like iterations disappear… I can't pretend to know. I have a theory, but it's entirely unprovable. I think that the 1996 we left behind still exists somewhere, but not in a straight line from where we are now."

Bellatrix looked awfully confused. "Do you suppose that my birth next year will… you know, complicate things?"

"I hope not," Tom said, and he decided to leave it at that. He looked around the ice cream shop, realising that it had been probably thirty years of his lived existence since he'd been in ordinary public places like this. It was still strange, too, to consider that his mind and fragmented soul were nearly seventy years old, but his body was twenty-three.

"The more I think of the logistics," Bellatrix said softly, "the more anxious I become. I think perhaps we ought to just… live. Here. Together."

"That seems wise."

Tom's ice cream was starting to drip all over his hand. He quickly worked to lick the rivulets of pale green from his fingers and thumb, and he dragged his tongue around the top of the cone. As he swallowed the mint ice cream, he flicked his eyes back to Bellatrix, who was staring at him like he was water in a desert. He smirked a bit and asked,

"You like when I lick it, do you?"

"Yes," Bellatrix whispered. Tom stared at her as he pulled his tongue over the ice cream again, and she looked breathless. He leaned forward and said in a low voice,

"The first time I lived through the seventies, I did that to you. Often."

"Did what?" Bellatrix's voice was almost inaudible, and Tom clarified,

"I licked you."

She frowned in confusion, and he almost laughed at her ignorance. He glanced downward and whispered,

"I licked you… between your legs. Like this."

He lathed his tongue over his ice cream again, and Bellatrix moaned softly in desperation. Tom laughed a little then, until a middle-aged wizard stepped up to the table and said in disbelief,

"Mr Riddle? My, it's been a few years."

Tom looked up in alarm to see Horace Slughorn standing before him. He'd taught both Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Black, though there had been twenty-five years between those times. For some reason, the presence of that common denominator reminded Tom of how small the visible age gap was between himself and Bellatrix here.

"Professor Slughorn." Tom rose to his feet and nodded politely at Slughorn. "Playing hooky from Hogwarts, sir?"

"No, no, my dear boy; I had a few errands to run. The quality of the Potions ingredients in Slug and Jiggers are far better here than in Hogsmeade, you understand." Slughorn smiled broadly, his eyes glancing to Bellatrix.

"Professor Slughorn teaches Potions at Hogwarts," Tom said, as though Bellatrix hadn't spent seven years studying under the man. She wisely smiled at him and said,

"Pleased to meet you."

"Professor, this is…" Tom froze then. What was she to him? There wasn't a very good honest answer to that question. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip and decided to leap off the ledge of reason. "This is my wife, Bella. She had the pleasure of attending Ilvermorny."

Bellatrix's eyes went round as saucers, and Slughorn looked very surprised.

"Wife! My goodness, dear boy; I had no idea. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Tom said rather numbly. His ice cream cone had melted all over the napkin where he'd set it. He pulled out his wand and nonverbally Vanished the treat. Slughorn seemed to take the hint, and he said jovially,

"Well, I didn't mean to interrupt. Just wanted to say hello, eh? Tom, I assume you've got a good Ministry position?"

Tom smiled and shook his head. "I'm working at Borgin and Burkes."

Slughorn frowned and said, "Oh. I thought that was just a rumour. Well, if you're happy, my boy, that's what really counts, isn't it? Good to see you, Tom. And nice meeting you, Mrs Riddle."

Bellatrix just nodded silently. Once Slughorn had gone, Tom sat back down and folded his hands on the little table. He knew very well what Bellatrix was about to say. Sure enough, she set down her spoon and said,

"Mrs Riddle? _Mrs Riddle?_ "

"Is it that revolting an idea, to be married to me?" Tom asked crisply, and Bellatrix shook her head.

"N-No. Of course not, My Lord, but I…" She hesitated, appearing to realise that she'd called him by an honorific he hadn't yet earned in this time. She sighed and shrugged and said, "We aren't married."

"It's just pretend," Tom nodded. "Just like you attending Ilvermorny. Just pretend. It's all part of keeping you safe here."

"I think I should get a job," Bellatrix said suddenly. Tom tipped his head and asked simply,

"Why?"

"So that I feel useful," Bellatrix said. "In those other times, I was a soldier for you, and so I felt useful."

"Well," Tom said, crossing his arms over his chest, "There's a _Help Wanted_ sign in the window of the tattoo parlour next to my flat. I have a feeling that a place like that won't ask too many questions about your background."

"But I'm no good at tattooing!" Bellatrix insisted. Tom laughed a little and asked,

"Have you attempted many magical tattoos?"

"No," Bellatrix admitted. "I suppose it's worth a try to inquire."

"Soon enough, I will have as much money as I want, and you won't need to work - aside from being my soldier again," Tom said very confidently. "Things are going to be different this time. Better. Besides, I need you as a soldier here. I haven't got any others. But what I do have is a target - the first person who absolutely must be eliminated if I'm to find glory."

Bellatrix just stared down at her ice cream, and she whispered softly, "Dumbledore?"

"Yes," Tom answered. He watched then as Bellatrix spooned a little more ice cream into her mouth. She held out the spoon to Tom and said, "You can have some, since you Vanished yours."

"Thanks." Tom gave her a good-natured expression, and when he took the spoon, he brushed his fingers over hers.

"Your skin is soft and warm here," she noted. Tom sank the spoon into the glass cup of ice cream, and when he brought it to his mouth, he took his time dragging it out again. He purposefully licked the remainder of ice cream from the inside of the spoon, and he watched Bellatrix's cheeks flush pink.

"You want me," he observed. Bellatrix just blinked and then insisted,

"I wanted you in 1996. I wanted you in 1970."

"But here I'm a handsome wizard just a few years older than you," he said, tipping his head. He held the spoon back out to her and told her, "I can see it in your pretty eyes. Burning want. I feel the same thing, believe me."

"I want to go to the flat now," Bellatrix told him plainly. She still hadn't taken the spoon, so Tom set it down and reached for her hand. He dragged his thumb back and forth inside her palm, and she shivered like it had gone cold in the shop. Tom laced his fingers through hers, squeezed them, and said quietly,

"What I did to that ice cream cone… I'm going to do it to you, Bellatrix."

He found her eyes, and as he caressed her hand with his, the pink flush on her cheeks spread down her neck. She was aroused, sitting her staring at him, letting him touch her hand. Tom gulped, for he himself had gone a little hard, and he asked in a shaky whisper,

"Shall we go back to the flat now?"

Bellatrix just nodded wordlessly, and Tom quickly rose from his chair, keeping his hand linked with Bellatrix. It didn't even occur to him, as they walked out of the ice cream parlour and made their way through Diagon Alley, that he was holding her hand. It also never occurred to him to let go, so he didn't. He finally released her hand when they were at the top of the worn-out stairs in the old brick building where Tom lived. He finally let her go so he could pull out his key, and as he unlocked the door, his heart began to thud like a war drum.

He tucked the key away and led Bellatrix inside, and she curled up the ends of her lips as she observed,

"It's just like in the visions I was having."

"Yes. Just like that." Tom gulped as he stared at his lumpy bed - a bed he had not seen in over forty years of living - and then at Bellatrix. He would be unashamed of nudity here, with his tightly muscled, lean, young body. He would be rather proud, as it happened, to be naked with her.

To that end, he began stripping off his robes, and he said to Bellatrix,

"Take off that dress. I need you. Now."

* * *

"Master."

Bellatrix couldn't call him anything besides that, not when she was lying on her back with him hovering above her. His eyes were dark here, like they'd been when she'd first known him. But his face was sharp and youthful, and his hair was thick and wavy. His arms and chest and stomach were lean and taut, sculpted just so. He was beyond anything Bellatrix could have imagined.

And right this minute, he was bending to kiss at her bare breasts, which made Bellatrix groan softly with want. She felt a deep flush of pleasure go through her core when he suckled one of her breasts into his mouth. He danced his tongue over her hard nipple, and she asked quietly,

"Have you always been so good at this?"

He laughed a little against her and pulled his head up. "No. The first time I was twenty-three, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing with a witch. It was you who taught me everything."

Bellatrix frowned in confusion. "How could I do that?"

"Practise makes perfect," Tom smirked. He kissed her between her breasts, then squeezed at the soft flesh with one hand. "I had quite a bit of practise with you, in a time you never experienced."

"This is all so strange," Bellatrix breathed. He was kissing in a line down her flat stomach now, pushing her thighs apart as he slid between them. Bellatrix clutched at the pillow that was beneath her head, and she watched as he descended. He let out a small, desperate sort of noise when his face went between Bellatrix's legs.

"Hold my hair," he instructed her. Bellatrix was confused by that order, but she obeyed. She snared her fingers into his thick waves and squeezed a little, and Tom grunted and nodded. Perhaps, Bellatrix pondered, he liked the feel of her holding him because it had been at least forty years since he'd had thick hair like this.

"I need to taste you," she heard him say, and before she could respond, he took hold of her hips and burrowed his face up against her. Bellatrix gasped at the feel of his tongue dragging up toward her clit - just like he'd done to the ice cream. He hadn't been kidding about that. He did it again, and again and again until Bellatrix was sure she would break into a thousand pieces. She squirmed where she lay, and his hands tightened on her thighs. Her own fingers were gripping his hair hard, and when he raised his eyes to her, she moaned helplessly. Suddenly he poked his tongue inside of her, lapping against her walls, and Bellatrix yelped.

"Hush," he scolded her, his breath warm on her sensitised skin, "I have neighbors."

"Sorry." Bellatrix tried to stay quiet then, but it was nearly impossible once he started to suck on the various parts of her. He pulled the lips of her womanhood into his mouth and licked them, and then he flicked his tongue over her clit. Bellatrix arched her back up and cried out, releasing his hair and reaching frantically for the sheets.

"Tom," she murmured, and the syllable felt so good on her lips that she said it again. "Tom. _Tom._ "

"Mmm-hmm?" he hummed against her, lathing his tongue a few more times. Bellatrix couldn't think straight. She could hardly breathe. It felt so good - _so good_ , better than anything in the world had felt before. His hands were rubbing at her thighs, soothing her, and she could feel a little tremble in them. He was aroused, too, she knew, but she was about to snap.

"Please," she said in a cracked whisper, though she wasn't sure what she was begging for. Tom licked very firmly at her clit then, his tongue sliding deeply from left to right, then right to left. He did that a few times in a row, and Bellatrix completely crumbled.

"Tom!" she cried, squeezing her eyes shut as a loud ringing pulsed in her ears. She moaned wordlessly as she came, her walls snapping around Tom's mouth. It was so much more intense than any climax Bellatrix had ever experienced, and she knew she was being very loud with her moans and whimpers. She couldn't help herself. She couldn't come quietly. Not when it felt this good.

"Bella," she finally heard him say, and when she opened her eyes, still panting, he stared at her. He pulled himself up onto his knees, and Bellatrix gasped. His cock in this body was probably perfectly ordinary, but Bellatrix had been a virgin when he'd taken her body with his grey, odd-looking organ. This one seemed remarkably masculine, with a thatch of dark hair around it, with its tan colour and the visible throb of his desire. Tom's shaking hand started to pump up and down his length, and then he paused, muttering, " _Lubrico._ "

His wandless magic was impressive, Bellatrix thought distantly. He was a remarkably powerful wizard in the body of a twenty-three-year-old. He wouldn't need to spend years on the Continent learning the Dark Arts, because he'd already learnt them. His mind was experienced, but his body was fresh and young. He would be unstoppable now.

"Bellatrix." Tom tipped his head back a little and emitted a choked sort of sound. "Oh."

"Wait!" she cried, for she suspected he meant to come on her belly. She scrambled to grab his hips and pull him closer, and she begged him, "In my mouth. Please."

"No. It tastes… it tastes… bad." Tom was on the verge, Bellatrix could tell. She finally found his eyes, and she whispered,

"Please."

"Oh, Bella." He moved forward on his knees a little, and Bellatrix opened her mouth. When he came, the first spurt landed on her cheek, but the rest of it jetted between her lips and onto her tongue. It was bitter and metallic, but Bellatrix found she didn't mind, not one bit. Tom watched in awe as she swallowed it, and he gasped when she dragged the puddle off her cheek into her mouth with her finger.

"B-Bella…" Tom collapsed onto the bed beside her, and as he stared at the ceiling, his cock started to visibly soften. He gulped, and Bellatrix asked him,

"Are you all right, Master?"

"I forgot," he said breathlessly. "I forgot how… how _intense_ it could feel. Old men don't feel things like that."

"Well, you're a young man here," Bellatrix smiled. She playfully pushed a rogue wave of his hair off his forehead, and she whispered, "I didn't know it could feel like that, either."

He shut his eyes and reminded her, "It's just pretend. Us saying we're married. Just pretend."

Bellatrix said nothing to that. She remembered how, in a vision of this time, he'd asked her over and over to marry him, and she'd said that she couldn't. _I want to pretend,_ Tom Riddle had said in that vision.

She kissed at his tightly muscled shoulder, his hard chest with its sparse patch of hair at the centre, and she murmured,

"I think I will very happy pretending here with you, My Lord. And I think you will get everything you want."

He turned his head toward her and nodded.

"I'm already off to a rather rewarding start," he said, and he took a steady, certain breath.

* * *

"So you want the job, but you've never tattooed." The witch behind the counter had platinum blonde hair with streaks of blue and turquoise running through it. She wore an aggressively low-cut white blouse and a flouncy black skirt. She was very pretty, Bellatrix thought.

"I would like to learn," Bellatrix said. "I'm a quick learner."

The other witch blew and popped a bubble of Drooble's gum and shrugged. "Well. We've had that sign up for six months with no inquiries. If you want to learn, I'll teach you. My name's Edna. And you are?"

"Bella. Erm… Bella Riddle," said Bellatrix. Edna narrowed her eyes.

"Riddle? Any relation to Tom Riddle?"

Bellatrix felt her cheeks warm. "He's my husband."

Edna's sculpted eyebrows flew up. "Didn't know he'd gotten married. He was such a wolf in school; I didn't think he'd ever settle down."

That made Bellatrix's stomach churn, and she cleared her throat a bit. "I didn't know him in school; I went to Ilvermorny."

"Oh." Edna shrugged. "Well, you bagged yourself the most eligible bachelor in wizarding Britain. Congratulations. Now… come on over here and I'll show you the supplies. We'll start with the Indelible Ink."

Bellatrix numbly followed Edna back through the cramped shop, with its posters of designs and its somewhat messy work station. As she did, she thought that perhaps she'd ask Tom at dinner just what sort of a wolf he had been.

* * *

"You're cooking dinner?"

Tom Riddle glanced over his shoulder and smirked at Bellatrix as she came into the cramped little flat.

"I did live here on my own for some time, you know. Couldn't afford to eat at the Leaky Cauldron every night. It's just tinned soup and some bread, I'm afraid."

"That's fine, Master," Bellatrix said. He couldn't help but like that she called him that in private, even when he looked like little more than a boy. He swallowed hard and used his wand to continue heating the watery chicken soup. It had come cheap from the sundry shop. Tom had found a cache of money in a battered wooden box he kept in a cupboard, but he made a pittance at work, and he couldn't splurge on food. There wouldn't be any honey tart with pine nuts. Not yet.

Bellatrix sat at one of the stools along the counter, and she seemed awed as Tom ladled out soup into two mismatched crockery bowls. He broke apart the little loaf of bread and muttered,

"I haven't got butter."

"That's all right." Bellatrix gratefully took her soup and bread, and Tom filled up two chipped glasses with water from the tap. He frowned, aimed his wand at the glasses, and murmured,

" _Crystallum Reparo._ "

Then he handed the mended glass of water to Bellatrix, and he dragged his other stool under the counter and sat opposite her. He dipped his bread into the chicken soup and asked,

"How did things go at Markus Scarrs, then?"

"Well," Bellatrix said, "I got hired, so that's good. Turns out that magical tattooing requires good spellwork, not necessarily artistry. Edna said I have to start out with the designs they have in the book - they've got spells for each. But I -"

"Edna?" Tom laughed softly, took a bite of bread, and chewed. His smile vanished when he saw Bellatrix's face. He forced the bite of soupy bread down with a sip of water and asked, "Was it Edna Flint? Pale as a ghost, blue streaks in her hair?"

"That's the one." Bellatrix silently spooned broth into her mouth, and Tom sighed. He'd had a very brief fling with Edna Flint, once upon a time. He folded his hands on the counter and said tightly to Bellatrix,

"When I first took your virginity - sorry, I'm referring to the _first_ time I took your virginity - I had gone over twenty years without touching a witch. And after I made you marry Rodolphus, I went another twenty years without touching a witch. _You_ , Bella, spent five years consuming my attentions, until I grew uncomfortable with how much I craved you. Now I've come through time, insisting that you be with me. Please, by all means, do explain why it is that you're experiencing jealousy."

Bellatrix scowled. "I'm not jealous, Master."

"Do not lie to me," he snapped. Bellatrix took another few bites of soup and said sourly,

"This soup tastes awful."

"Oh, well… I do apologise for the lack of gourmet cuisine," Tom said, narrowing his eyes. "Why are you jealous? What did Edna tell you?"

Bellatrix raised her eyes and looked awfully sorrowful. "She said you used to be something of… a wolf."

"A wolf," Tom repeated, and Bellatrix nodded.

"She seemed very surprised that you'd settled down and gotten married. Of course, I didn't tell her that we aren't _actually_ married."

Tom touched his fingers to his forehead and said quietly, "I fucked Edna Flint three times in a deserted classroom at Hogwarts. She wasn't the first; there were a few others. I was very handsome in school, and charismatic, and I got top marks. The witches around me were attracted to that."

"Well, I can hardly blame them," Bellatrix said. Tom glared at her and reminded her,

"I am almost seventy years old."

"I know," Bellatrix nodded, but Tom continued,

"The only person in any existence I have lived who's actually mattered to me is _you_. Do you understand that?"

Bellatrix was silent. She seemed to be studying him, and Tom didn't need Legilimency to know what she was thinking. Witches had been drawn to him in his school years, and he was just as handsome now. Would she be competing for his affections in this time, in a way she hadn't had to do in other eras?

"Bellatrix." Tom reached across the counter for her hand. He gave her a sombre look and told her, "I am in love with you. With _you_. No one else."

"It's just pretend," Bellatrix protested. "We're only pretending."

"No," Tom insisted. "I am not pretending about loving you."

She pulled her hand back and mumbled, "I love you, too, My Lord."

He watched her eat her soup, and he hurried to consume his own. After they were done, he Scoured the bowls and Banished them to the cupboards. Bellatrix glanced down at herself and noted,

"I haven't got any other clothes here."

"No, I suppose you haven't." Tom stood from his stool and opened the cupboard where he kept his money. He pulled down the beat-up wooden box and pried open its lid. He counted out twenty Galleons and put them in a small velvet pouch, and when he handed them to Bellatrix, she promised,

"I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

Tom scoffed and shook his head. "Pay me back?"

Bellatrix shifted the bag of money in her hand. "I can't take charity from you, Master."

" _Tom_ ," he hissed, and Bellatrix looked confused. She cleared her throat and said,

"I thought you hated that name."

"I do, and soon enough there will be dozens who are afraid to say the words 'Lord Voldemort.' But _you_ , Bellatrix… Say it. Call me by the name I have in this place."

She looked like she was on the verge of tears, but she finally whispered,

"I'll pay you back quickly, Tom."

"I won't accept a Knut from you," he said sharply. "The coins in that box are _ours_."

Bellatrix dared to roll her eyes then, and she said, "Yes. Let's pretend to be married, and we'll share money and a flat."

Tom's nostrils flared as huffed out a breath. "As long as it's all just pretend, perhaps I'll strike things up again with Edna. You wouldn't be affected by that, would you? We're only pretending, so I can go ahead and take Edna Flint on a date, right?"

Bellatrix gasped a little, shoving the bag of coins back across the counter at him.

"Of course," she said, "by all means, Master, you must do as you please. You are the Dark Lord."

"Am I?" Tom gave her a cruel little smirk. "Only to you."

"If you don't mind, I think I'll take a shower," Bellatrix said, and she scrambled off her stool. Tom watched her enter the tiny bathroom, shutting the door rather loudly. A few moments later, he heard the water start in the shower.

He wasn't certain why he was humouring this stupid little argument. He was an old man; he'd had an entire life before she'd even been born. Of course he'd had other women. It was entirely unreasonable of her to be jealous of the years he'd spent on Earth before her existence. But then he realised that he was still young and handsome, and she was probably afraid he would abandon her for someone eager to bed the good-looking and charming Tom Riddle. That fear seemed neither unfounded nor unreasonable.

He opened the box of coins again and pulled out five more Galleons, enough to buy another pair of boots or a few pairs of knickers. He shoved the extra Galleons into the pouch on the counter, and he Banished the box of coins back into the cupboard. Then he stomped across the tiny flat, wrenched open the bathroom door, and glared at the shower curtain.

"Bella."

She yelped at the sound of his voice. There was silence then, until she said carefully,

"Yes, My Lord?"

For a long moment, Tom said nothing at all. He just listened to the sound of the water, inhaled the heady aroma of the shampoo and soap, and twirled his wand between his fingers.

"Bellatrix," he finally said again, and this time, the water shut off. Bellatrix sniffled a little from inside the shower, and he realised she'd been crying. He stopped twirling his wand and used it to send a clean towel floating above the shower curtain rod. As it flew, Tom muttered a warming spell so that it would be pleasantly heated as Bellatrix wrapped it around herself.

He tried to tell her that he didn't want anything to do with Edna Flint, not now that he had Bellatrix in this existence. He tried to tell her that other witches could bang down the door of Borgin and Burkes and he wouldn't look twice at any of them. He tried to tell her that she made his body come alive - this body and the one he'd had as a resurrected shell of himself. He tried to tell her that he rather liked the game of make-believe where they shared a flat and a surname.

But she peeled back the shower curtain, and his mouth fell open at the sight of her standing there with eyes swollen from crying, her bottom lip shaking a little, and all he said was,

"I love you."

Bellatrix shook her head and insisted, "I'm sorry, My Lord. I'm being silly. I've no right to be possessive or jealous or -"

She stopped then, for he'd tucked his wand away and put his hands on her cheeks. He bent down a little to kiss her, and he did so very carefully. He breathed in the clean, warm feel of her, and he whispered against his lips,

"I need you."

She kissed him then, taking a bit of initiative as her fingers nestled in his thick hair and pulled his face closer. He grunted a bit as she stepped out of the shower, and he pushed her up against the bathroom wall. He brought his hand to the place where she'd tucked the towel in on itself. He was about to take it off of her, to touch her and kiss her, to make love to her.

Make love.

He'd always thought of it as _fucking._ He'd _fucked_ Edna Flint and the other witches who had barely mattered even in the middle of the act. He'd _fucked_ Bellatrix for years until he became afraid of doing so. He'd _fucked_ Bellatrix in Malfoy Manor with his wretched grey body. But here, in this ridiculous, shabby excuse for a home, he didn't want to fuck her. He wanted to make love to her. He wanted to love her. He wanted…

"Bella," he whispered, and he waited until her wide dark eyes found his. He gulped and asked her, "Will you marry me?"

Bellatrix blinked. "I can't."

She was right, of course. Marriages required documentation for Ministry records. She had no birth record, no school records. She didn't really exist here. Obtaining a marriage licence would be impossible, in both the Muggle world and the magical one. Of course, he could create perfect forgeries and smuggle them into the Ministry so that nobody would be the wiser. But that was a complicated scheme. He had so many other things to worry about if he was to become the Dark Lord, if he was to make things happen properly this time. So she was right. She couldn't marry him. But he wanted that. He tipped his forehead against hers and whispered a recitation of the prophecy she'd made in 1970.

" _The witch who will aid him in crafting his firmament sits in obedient deference beside him… decades apart from him, inches away… the Dark Lord may fight it, but she is his only… the one upon whom his successes rely… Keeping her near to him, then will he triumph… the Dark Lord, the majesty hinges upon whether he can surrender his whole self to her._ "

He kissed her hard then, pushing his tongue between her lips and dragging his fingertips along her collarbone. She shivered a little as Tom pulled his face back. He brushed some of the damp curly tendrils of her hair away from her face - her very beautiful face - and he informed her,

"I mean to surrender my whole self to you, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix smiled a little, even as her eyes welled, and she asked, "So you won't be a wolf anymore?"

"In my lived existence, Bella, it has been almost a half century since I was that boy who embraced the affections of girls in school uniforms. Now, here… I am Tom Riddle, and you are Bella Riddle. Even if it's only pretend."

She nodded then, and she said, "I'll have to sleep naked tonight. I'll buy a nightgown tomorrow."

Tom smirked and played with her damp hair a little. "Buy knickers and bras and dresses and robes and socks. Don't buy nightgowns."

"No?" Bellatrix laughed, and Tom shook his head firmly.

"I'd prefer you be naked when you fall asleep in my arms every night."

She stared at him for a very long moment then, and finally she nodded. "Bella Riddle. It has a nice ring to it. Even if it's only pretend."

* * *

"It's raining buckets outside," Edna Flint said, staring out the front window of the tattoo parlour. Bellatrix looked up from the paper upon which she was practising, and she marveled at the sheer volume of rain pouring from the heavens.

"Wouldn't want to be out in that right now," Bellatrix said, "even with a waterproofing charm."

"How's the design coming along?" Edna stepped through the cramped little shop until she reached the table where Bellatrix was training.

"Nearly finished," Bellatrix said. She studied the instructions in the design book, then dragged her wand in a circle over the paper and murmured, " _Pintalupina._ "

The outline of a howling wolf etched itself onto the paper, siphoning Indelible ink from the little pot that Bellatrix had placed beside the paper. She smiled up at Edna and shrugged.

"I think I'm getting the hang of it."

"Well, good, because we've got a customer coming in at four this afternoon. He's agreed to let you put this wolf design on him. His name is Fenrir Greyback… he's a werewolf himself."

"Oh." Bellatrix gnawed on her lip and insisted, "I don't think I'm quite ready to actually tattoo anyone."

Edna threw up a thin brow and crossed her arms. "If I'm paying you to be here, then you're going to put tattoos on customers."

Before Bellatrix could answer, the front door of the shop opened. Edna whirled around, and Bellatrix peered around Edna's full skirt. She smiled a little at the sight of her lord and master standing in the entryway.

"Tom!" Edna exclaimed. "Come for a tattoo?"

She sounded entirely too flirtatious, and Bellatrix scowled. She tried desperately not to imagine Tom Riddle and Edna Flint in a broom cupboard, but that was difficult, since she knew it had happened. Bellatrix rose, and Tom looked passed Edna to her.

"Bella," he said, quite warmly, "It's pouring out, but I'm on a lunch break. Thought I'd see if you wanted to go next door and eat. I'm famished."

Bellatrix grinned. "That sounds wonderful, Master."

Then she froze, realising what word had slipped out of her mouth. Tom rolled his eyes, and as Edna Flint looked in open-mouthed alarm from Tom to Bellatrix and back again, he raised his wand.

" _Obliviate_ ," he said smoothly, twisting his wand. He flicked his eyes to Bellatrix, and she said softly,

"I'm sorry."

"Don't let it happen again," he said. "I can't go round altering memories left and right."

He lowered his wand, and Bellatrix knew he'd done a very thorough job when Edna turned and said in a chipper voice to Bellatrix,

"Try to stay dry!"

"Erm… yeah. Thanks. I'll be back soon." Bellatrix followed Tom out into the pouring rain. They managed to stay dry as they hustled to the covered stairwell that led up to The White Wyvern. Inside the pub, it was dark and smoky, and a rumble of thunder made the place shake a little.

"Here." Tom pulled out a chair for Bellatrix at a little table against the wall, and she sat. A rather wretched-looking witch with thin, grey hair stepped up and croaked,

"What'll it be?"

"I'd like a Butterbeer and whatever stew you've got on today," Bellatrix said, and Tom nodded.

"Same."

The witch walked off without another word. Bellatrix leaned forward and asked Tom furtively,

"You knew a werewolf called Fenrir, didn't you? In 1996?"

"I'd known him for years. Met him in the early 60s. A filthy creature, a werewolf, but he was useful enough. Why?"

"He's coming in this afternoon for a tattoo, and I'm the one to do it!" Bellatrix paused then, for the serving witch had come with two Butterbeers. Bellatrix gulped at hers. "I'm so anxious."

"You'll be fine," Tom promised her, but Bellatrix let out a shaky breath and shook her head.

"I didn't mean to call you what I did in the shop. I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Tom sipped at his own drink, and Bellatrix frowned.

"Are _you_ all right?" she asked, and Tom shrugged.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Something seems… off." Bellatrix drank more Butterbeer, and then the serving witch came and plopped two bowls of strongly-smelling fish stew on the table. Bellatrix wrinkled her nose but picked up her spoon and began to eat.

"I've been distracted today," Tom told her. "That's all."

"Distracted?" Bellatrix looked up. "What's bothering you?"

Tom shook his head and dragged his thumb along the edge of his bowl of stew.

"You'll do fine with the tattoo," he assured her. Bellatrix decided not to push him any further, and she ate the rest of her meal in silence.

* * *

"Well?" Tom asked as Bellatrix came into the flat. "How did it go?"

"That werewolf is awful," Bellatrix said, peeling off her waterproof cloak and hanging it by the door. "He smells like a corpse. He even asked me if I wanted to get bitten! The nerve of that terrible beast."

Tom smirked and asked, "But did you tattoo him?"

"Yes," Bellatrix nodded. "He now has a beautifully designed wolf on his extraordinarily hairy back. You can hardly see the tattoo, so it probably wouldn't have mattered if I'd mucked it up. But I didn't. Edna said it was well done."

Tom put his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor. He'd stripped down to a crisp white dress shirt with the first few buttons opened and a pressed pair of grey trousers, and his hair was messy, like he'd been running his fingers through it. He was impossibly attractive, Bellatrix thought.

"Do you remember when I asked you if you'd like to go on holiday with me?" Tom murmured, and Bellatrix's breath caught a little.

"Yes," she said quietly. "We agreed it was impossible, since you'd be recognised."

"But I wouldn't be recognised in this body," he said. He raised his dark eyes to her and licked his bottom lip. "I'd like to take you somewhere very pleasant. Somewhere warm and sunny… I want to feel sand between my toes. I want to see you swim in the ocean."

"My Lord." Bellatrix stepped closer to him then, and she touched her hands to his chest as she reminded him, "We're very poor here."

"I know." He nodded and took her hands from his chest, rubbing his thumbs over hers. He stared into Bellatrix's eyes and asked, "Will you marry me?"

Bellatrix felt like she was going to cry as she shook her head. "You know I can't. I don't have any papers."

"Hmm." Tom nodded. "Yes. That was… that was an issue, wasn't it?"

"Was?" Bellatrix felt uneasy now, even more so when Tom released her hands and walked over to the counter in the little kitchen. Bellatrix stood beside him as he drummed his fingers on a thin leather folio that had been sitting on the counter. He looked at the folder as he reminded her,

"The prophecy says I must give my whole self to you if I'm to succeed. Last time I lived through these years, I made mistakes. I made too many Horcruxes without knowing what damage I'd inflict upon myself. I didn't recruit followers early enough or aggressively enough. I didn't get rid of Dumbledore when I had the chance. I didn't eliminate the possibility of Harry Potter ever being born. I know now the things that have to happen. And I know that the prophecy is clear - you must be beside me, and I must give my whole self to you."

He opened the folio then, and Bellatrix watched in wonder as he pulled out some very convincing-looking documentation.

"Bella Townsend, born 21 September, 1930 in New York City. Father was an English Muggle and mother was an American witch. This is an American Muggle birth certificate."

He set the parchment down, and Bellatrix studied it. It certainly looked real. It would be very difficult to prove it was a fake. Tom picked up another piece of paper and said,

"Certificate of graduation from Ilvermorny."

"Wait." Bellatrix shook her head and waited for Tom to look at her. She shrugged. "If I marry you with these false documents, then it isn't really _me_ marrying you, is it?"

He didn't answer for a long while. Finally, he shrugged and said, "There are marriage rites that can be performed in private, but it wouldn't be official with the Ministry."

"Master." Bellatrix shut her eyes and thought of the time he'd come to her bedroom in the middle of the night. He'd been very troubled then, in his grey-faced form. Bellatrix opened her eyes and saw the same look of irritated sadness in Tom Riddle's dark eyes. She shook her head and said, "We just have to pretend, don't we?"

He silently put the forgeries he'd made back into the leather folio, which he shut and then tucked into a wide drawer beneath the counter. He sighed and said,

"I think I'll go for a walk."

"It's pouring rain," Bellatrix reminded him, but Tom shrugged.

"It's only water. I'll be back soon."

Before she could stop him, he'd made his way out the door of the little flat, still wearing nothing over his unbuttoned white shirt. The door shut so hard that Bellatrix flinched, and as soon as Tom had gone, she sank into the ratty old armchair and began to cry.


End file.
